


AEGEAN INTERLUDE

by vanhunks



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-06-10 06:58:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 46,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6944443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanhunks/pseuds/vanhunks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A month after their return home, Kathryn and Chakotay marry. They have been married for almost three years, but their marriage is failing and a break-up is imminent. In a desperate attempt to save their marriage, Kathryn takes a two month vacation alone in the exotic Aegean with the commitment of returning to Chakotay at the end of it. But the islands are hypnotic and seductive as Kathryn falls under the spell of a handsome stranger she meets on Naxos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I used a certain premise that there are indeed women out there who are, as they say, "cold in bed", even though they love their spouses and try very hard to experience heaven! This novella is perhaps a [very sexy!] exploration into that aspect of a marriage. For now I give you CHAPTER 1, after which I'll post a chapter every day. 
> 
> This story was written some years ago, and now, edited and corrected, ready for reading again. It was the winner in the Voyager Blue Alert Contest for new stories in 2004. I've done a little research on the Greek islands and a classical music record label called "Naxos", named for a Greek island, became the inspiration for the exotic location for J&C. 
> 
> One lady, Mary Stark, who has done great work on this project, that once again underlines the importance of a second, critical eye. Thank you so much, Mary!
> 
> Disclaimer: Paramount owns Janeway and Chakotay.

**_"The mind still longs for what it has missed, and loses itself in the contemplation of the past." - [Periander of Corinth]_ **

* * *

 

She lies down on the bed, the covers pulled away. Wondering if she remembered to fold her gown neatly on a chair and hang her robe on a hook behind the door, she peers in the darkness, seeing the outline of the neatly folded garments, her shoes on the floor. Chakotay moves about, throwing off his clothes and leaving them where they land on the floor. In the morning, she knows, he'll pick them up himself and store them or throw them in the recycler.

They never share a shower - she is always there before he goes in. She knows his body: strong thighs and upper torso, firm buttocks, a smattering of chest hair, marvelling, as she always does, at how scant it is.

Her hair fans about her head on the pillow; her breasts are cooled by the air of the room. She touches her body, moves her hand lower, beneath her navel. Her centre grows warm, but isn’t bursting into flames. Closing her eyes, she prays that something will happen. The heat in her core simmers. Briefly she dips her fingers in her slit, feels for the moisture to bathe her folds as she prepares for his entry.

The bed creaks as he lies down next to her. He smells of musk, his breath hot against her.

"Kathryn..."

Her palm touches his cheek in the darkness.

"Yes..."

He moves, his hand covering her breast, leaning to brush his lips against her. A little agitated, she moves her head away from the kiss. He sighs, then trails his hand over the planes of her stomach, down to where her own hand had been earlier, searching for moistness. Impatient, she pulls him over her, opening her legs for him as she allows him to settle between them. Surprisingly, he is harder tonight than at other times. She can measure him by the texture of his erection. If the outer skin feels only slightly damp, the erection has too little heat. He'll go limp the moment he ejaculates and even as he moans in the darkness, she will feel him slipping out of her.

Other nights, like now, there is enough heat, and the ridges on his penis are pronounced, the seam along the length of its underside like a knife edge. He is rock hard. His tip feels distended;  on one or two occasions when she touches him there, a droplet of pre-cum will smear her finger.

Her heartbeat quickens and her breath is expelled as tiny puffs. Raising her hips, she presses his tip briefly against her centre before slipping  in, the shaft grazing her walls. She is still a little dry and winces at his sharp entry. He wants to pull out, but she locks her legs around him, willing him to continue. "God, Kathryn..." he mutters, sinking deep into her, burying his face in her neck as he begins to thrust.

The thrusts are slow and he heaves above her, his mouth only centimetres from hers. Her hands are on his damp back, her nails seeking a grip. His movement turns to vigorous pounding and she moves with him, her sheath only now beginning to fill with her juices. His shaft is thick, warm, and hard against the walls of her sheath; a quiver of ecstasy courses through her. She wonders absently if he will clamp his mouth around one nipple. It doesn't happen. He grunts as he pushes, never pulling out to the tip - short bursts that don't touch her core. The pounding accelerates; she wants him to hurry and bucks against him, feeling him coming closer to the edge. Her gasps are low, sedate; she pulls his head closer  for a brief kiss before arching into him. His chest grazes her nipples, the sensation erotic. Then, the moment when his body becomes rigid. He groans and collapses, spilling warmly into her.

When he slips out of her, she turns on her side, thinking that tonight may have been a little better than other nights. At least she did feel the whorls of desire in her body, almost reaching the top before they remained there, leaving her deflated. Chakotay shifts behind her and raises his head to kiss her cheek, first brushing her hair away from her face.

In the early hours of the morning, she awakes when his arousal rubs insistently against her. His mouth burns into the back of her neck, his arm thrown over her to cup her breast. She waits a few minutes, letting him caress her breasts. She wants him to turn her over to kiss her, but he remains spooned to her, rubbing his hard cock into her buttocks. The hand moves away from her nipples, slides down to her buttocks, down the crack to touch her folds, dipping a finger quickly in her slit to asses her wetness. She wants his finger to stay and press in deeply, but it moves away, trailing wetly over her skin. Her core begins to heat. She turns on her back, feeling for his face in the darkness, grazing his lips with her thumb. Spreading her legs wide, he groans as he mounts her, his tip hovering briefly at her slit. This time she's wetter and he slips easily into her. His movements are more energetic, his growl joining her own gasps as they speed towards a crescendo. She raises her hips higher, smiling in the darkness as Chakotay groans loudly, the sound muffled as she pulls his head closer to kiss him.

The kiss is broken as his whole body  becomes rigid; he lifts away from her as he climaxes, screaming a name.

"Annika!!"

 

*****************************  

 

Breakfast had become a ritual, in which she downloaded the current affairs from her computer to a PADD and sat down at the table drinking orange juice while reading the news. There were two table mats and on her side, her plate was placed exactly on the centre where it covered an image of a starship - USS Voyager: Intrepid Class. On the other table mat was an image of the Caretaker's Array.

A knife and fork measured three centimetres from the edge of the plate on each side. The glass with orange juice, replicated to have fruit cells and which she always referred to as raw orange because it tasted somewhat bitter, stood on the left, just off the table mat with the starship image, placed within reach of her hand. Even if she kept her eyes on reading the news of the day, her hand could reach and clasp the tumbler unerringly. On a saucer was an egg cup with its boiled egg. The egg wore a knitted yellow pixie cap which perched jauntily on its head. Once, in a moment of impulse, she had replicated the tiny cap. Chakotay had given her a jaundiced look when he saw it and continued eating without looking at her again.

Not today, however, the cracking of the egg’s head and spooning out the contents. Sometimes she thought the egg smiled at her through its slits for eyes and a gaping mouth drawn simply as a convex curve. There were days the egg glowered, but who was she to argue with what expressions it wore? In seconds, the shell would be cracked and that would be the end of egg face.

This morning she had opted for toast. Two slices lay on their silver rectangular dish that was placed to blend with the geometric designs of the other items on the table - square toast, rectangular silver dishes, circular plate, oval egg. A smaller dish with a pat of butter stood next to the toast, and the butter knife lay next to it, parallel to the rectangular length of the butter dish.

On another silver dish lay slivers of fruit: papaya, kiwi fruit and honeydew melon, their sweetness off-set by two wedges of grapefruit. No coffee this morning. No cereal. He would come later and have cereal and coffee. He always waited till she had almost finished her breakfast before sitting down.

Dressed in her worn baby blue robe, her hair was still wet from her morning shower and was brushed back, giving her a scrubbed appearance. She tried to redirect the images of last night. Two bodies attempting to find the magic that she had admitted long ago was never there. A resigned sigh followed. She had given up the tears, the pleas, the need to fantasise herself into creating the magic, the muffled apologies that followed the aftermath in which really, nothing happened. The world never burst into brilliant displays of fireworks. Not for her. Not for him, though men, once erect and firmly embedded in a sheath that was either dry, or unwilling, or worked too hard, or faked the spasms, of necessity had to reach a climax.

The orange juice lived up to its bitter taste as she took her first sip. She needed it, she thought, grimacing after the first swallow. The reasons for the gradual breakdown lay like a mystic annotation to an equally mystical story hidden in the first months of their marriage, not to be pondered on, never to be expressed even in anger, never to be admitted as an error of judgment. Those remained closed doors, opened sometimes when there was a subtle desire to inflict desolation and hurt on one another. Too much pain. In a sudden effort to drive away the reasons for those mystic annotations, she let the bitter liquid rest on her tongue. Another grimace, less subtle than the first, and she was able to redirect her thoughts and turn her attention to her PADD.

Taking up her PADD, she began to read the news. Nothing that shook the universe with controversy, scandal, war or rumours of war. The President of the Federation was due to meet with a delegation from the Klingon Empire in yet another attempt to appease the Klingons. The delegation was headed by Krog Morok, who was notorious for derailing proceedings. This year's batch of senior cadets were the best in fifteen years, so asserted the head of the Academy, Admiral Winston LaGrange, in a press release to promote Starfleet Academy. In another incident involving initiations whereby youths were introduced to manhood, two young Klingon warriors had died in the underground lava caves of Kronos. A human engaged to a Klingon woman warrior had died during the tea-drinking ceremony. He should have known the cup was laced with poison. The Klingon Empire - mentioned more than once in one news session. She should record the date.

The egg, separated from its pixie cap and shell, lay sliced through with precision along the length of the oval shape on her plate - two halves with the segmented golden yellow yolk exposed.

She thought idly how separated the yolk halves were as she started on her meal.

_They will never be whole again..._

As always, she was almost finished when he sat down opposite her.

_Morning kisses had become forgotten annotations…_

Another news item - three authors of Earth on the shortlist for the Federation Literary Book Award. She knew them all, had read all their works.

"Good morning, Kathryn."

She looked up from the PADD, casting him only a quick glance before murmuring "Good morning".

 _'Jupiter Station is gearing to launch Zimmerman's latest photonic creation'_. That should put the nose of Voyager's EMH out of joint.  

"Here," she said without looking up this time, "a human male died during a tea-drinking ritual with his Klingon fiancée."

"The tea is poisoned, but an antidote is supposed to be provided."

"So?"

"An act of faith, Kathryn."

"I think it was an act of betrayal. She deliberately withheld the antidote. She wanted to kill him."

She heard him sigh. She was goading him and he was rising to the bait.

He ate in silence, until, "What time are you leaving?"

He always asked the question. It was rude not to respond.

"Normal time: 0830. The perks of the Admiralty. I can make my own hours between 0600 and 1900. It's not as if you don't know."

"It matters, Kathryn. I'd like to know."

She looked up, putting the PADD down with a deliberate display of precision next to her table mat on the left, parallel with a three centimetre space. Her eyes met his. She had to remind herself not to blink, to allow the old, deep warmth to spread through her just looking at his face. She had to remind herself that he was just a man, tanned, with his hair sleek from the shower. Dressed pin neat in his Starfleet uniform, which he preferred when teaching senior classes at the Academy, she had to remind herself that though he was her husband, all descriptions of that designation didn't matter. In spite of his wavering smile that created two dimples that once used to throw her into a spin, her heart grew its familiar rock hard shell, impenetrable to any attraction, chemistry, love...

Yet, during the night, they had sex twice. The mind and the body - opposing forces, in moments of weakness the one betraying the other. She had been breathless with desire, then came the disappointment, furious and sudden as her body refused to flame. Once, she had thought that she and Chakotay could light up the universe.

Only sex. No fireworks. The rest was contorting her body in a counterfeit display of passion.

But she still wanted him. She wanted his warm body close to her; she wanted to lie in his arms and feel his breath as he breathed in sleep against her, his smell, his touch, his lips that these days almost never touched her mouth. Yet, she wanted the mystery of that touch. She even, God help her, tolerated him not loving her...

"Does it really matter anymore? You go your way, I go mine, and in our bed we meet."

_With a body unsatisfied, untouched._

_But, I made that choice..._

A slice of grapefruit. Delicately balanced on her spoon as she raised it to her mouth, the first flush of its bitter sap spreading on her tongue.

"It could be different," he said sullenly, matching her mood.

"How, Chakotay? Shall we try new positions?"

"You are bitter."

Of course. She sucked on the sap of grapefruit. Grapefruit as ammunition. A thought worthy of being pursued. She gave a sigh; the anger simmered, dissolved, leaving in its wake deep resignation.

"It's not working, Chakotay." Her voice was strained, defeated. "Not here at the table," she said, turning her head in the direction of their bedroom, "and not there, in the bed."

"I love you, you know."

"How? How much? How little?" She almost jumped out of her chair at his admission. Two bodies entwined - sex, open your legs, close your legs when it's done, nipples sucked to tautness, nub licked into heat that only simmers. A moon flower opening briefly before it closed.  Where were the explosions? Her laugh sounded empty, mirthless. "You say you love me in the same way people offer apologies that are what they are - false testimony."

"Kathryn..." her name slipped from his lips. A momentary flash of a time when the sound of it made her insides quiver. Now, it's a plea. For what? "I'm trying hard to make this work..." he added, his eyes on her, earnest, expectant.

She pounced on his words.

"Almost three years... That's a long time to try and make something work. You're not to blame. I am. It's my mind that - "  She swallowed as the rest of her words stalled in her throat. Where was the damned bitter sap? "Look, finish your breakfast. You'll be late..."

"Don't change the subject," he persisted.

Carefully she placed her spoon on the plate; carefully she prepared her response. He looked...Starfleet. He looked...Academy Professor. She tried to bleach the image into nothingness, and carry it away from her emotions.

"Okay, Chakotay. What do you want me to say that I haven't said before in the last months?"

"That we could try, at least. Living like this...why do you punish me so?"

"Because you deserve it?" the words burst from her. "I've asked before, and I'll ask again -  can't we end this farce?"

"And I'll say it again - I won't leave you, Kathryn."

_Impasse. Annotations that whirl in circles._

"There's nothing left. We're polite strangers."

"We're friends, husband and wife - "

Her upper lip quivered from pent up anger. This time...

"Chakotay, we fucked last night. Twice, if you can still remember. That's all we do. We fuck. I faked and you...the second time you..." The anger dissolved. Frustration, defeat, tears closing in on the battlefield. 

"What, Kathryn?" he asked, ignoring her crudity.

In his eyes she could see he knew what she was going to say. Now the mystical annotation was to be voiced, coming into the open at last, forcing itself into the cynical context of their marriage canvas.

"You called out Seven of Nine's name..."

This time she allowed the tears to freefall to earth. She had no idea when he rose from his chair or when he left. The sound of the front door closing seemed distant, detached.

He couldn't forget Annika Hansen. Neither could she.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

END CHAPTER 1

 


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Chakotay watched as the senior cadets filed out of the lecture theatre.

"That was a very interesting lecture, Professor," said James Rollins, son of Magnus Rollins. "It's a real honour to have been selected for this class. It's the toughest in the final year curriculum."

"That's why we decided to make the selections ourselves for this year. You're not the best group of senior cadets for nothing."

He smiled at the serious young man. James was going to graduate top of his class and was a great role model to the younger cadets. Chakotay nodded and James quickly joined his buddies who were almost out of sight of the lecture room.

Chakotay walked to his office just off the lecture theatre. He sat down heavily at his desk, giving a sigh of relief. The total concentration on the subject, the enquiring minds of the group of select senior students, was gone and no longer protected his warring emotions after Kathryn's revelation this morning.

So what else was new? Their marriage was a disaster; they were into their third year of a slow decline into odd conversations that ended mostly in arguments, sex which led to nothing but a rancid taste in the mouth. The arguments were conducted politely; Kathryn's face never  gave away any emotion, whether it was pain, anger, frustration.

Until this morning.

Her picture stood on his desk. Once during the first few months of their marriage, they had gone to Risa of all places, to soak up a week of resort sunshine. The debriefings had been long over, the crew had dispersed in all directions and gone on with their lives. Kathryn had been promoted to Admiral and he had taken up a coveted Professorship at the Federation's premier Academy. He had taken the picture of Kathryn, who had laughed into the imager. She looked beautiful and carefree, with the light of the sun behind her so that her golden hair glinted. They had gone into the marriage carefully, knowing that they each had their demons to battle. He had asked soon after Seven left, and Kathryn had agreed. His heart had been raw then, but he had thought Kathryn would soon supplant Annika, and they could get on with their friendship and grow to love one another again.

Had he been too oblivious on Risa to notice that their lovemaking was just sex? He compared everything they did in bed to...

Annika Hansen.

Now Kathryn's laughing face stared at him and all he could picture was her face this morning.

"Dammit, Kathryn..." he murmured as he rested his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He had transgressed. Again. An aperture to Kathryn's heart had opened, very briefly, too fleeting. But he had seen the hurt, the total desolation before it closed and she was again the wife with no emotions to show - aloof, refined, classic Kathryn. The kind he wanted to ram up against a wall and... "Dammit," he muttered again.

Annika Hansen. Ex Borg. Seven of Nine. Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix 01.

Seven of Nine who came and joined them between the sheets. Sometimes so insistent that he thought... He sighed. In the beginning Kathryn had been understanding, claiming that time would heal his wounds. He had called Seven's name often in his sleep. Kathryn had been compassionate, wonderful really, in those first months. Time, he decided, had served only to entrench his wounded love for the Borg woman.

The first time he called out Annika's name as he climaxed into Kathryn was followed by a second, a third, a fourth... After that he lost count. Kathryn had been bewildered in the beginning, and hopeful that it would lessen. It did. But it also did grave damage to her and even graver injustice. He knew that she faked her orgasms. He knew that her body shut down the moment she allowed herself to imagine he thought he was making love to the Borg.

In the beginning, Kathryn _was_ Annika Hansen.

Kathryn was convinced that he could never let go of his love for Annika. Did she even notice how his feelings had begun to change? How more and more he wanted to be in her company, how he couldn't wait for her to get home? He was always home before her, and in the last few months, he had taken to preparing notes in his office until it was time for her to finish up at Headquarters and they would come home together.

She couldn't see past Annika Hansen.

He hadn't been able to either. Those first months he hadn't cared because Kathryn's words that it was okay gave him that freedom. He believed he was healing. Kathryn didn't.

Last night didn't help; he was mortified afterwards, knowing how it wounded her. How had they come to this? They thought they had it all worked out and soon they would have a secure marriage, one which enjoyed the full measure of mutual chemistry and passion. Kathryn should have left him to die, not worry herself over her best friend. But she’d married him. It was a choice she made with open eyes, knowing that he was still in love with Annika. He asked, and it was a choice he made too, knowing that he was classic rebound material. They’d thought it would work.

Now, Kathryn's painful attention to ritual during breakfast baffled him. He knew how spontaneous she could be, how free and how carefree at times. Those qualities were all stacked away neatly, just like the excruciating precision of the breakfast table. At night,  preparing for bed, Kathryn was hyper neat, folding each garment, placing shoes together with precision, underwear that would be folded, to be placed later in the recycler. Nothing ever lay strewn around, although he knew she was a lot more relaxed than that. If she could just kick off her shoes and let her clothing trail from the lounge right into their bedroom when he carried her sometimes to bed... He shook his head. Kathryn had changed from the woman he knew on Voyager, the captain he admired, the friend whom he loved, the colleague he challenged. Then she had been spirited, humorous, angry, openly demonstrative, caring, compassionate. How he lived in those days for a spontaneous touch of her hand on his shoulder, his cheek, pressing a finger sometimes against his dimple when he smiled, saying, "It's not fair."

That was not the Kathryn he married. It was not her fault.

Kathryn's words had been direct, no frills around them to soften her own pain. He called Seven's name during their lovemaking. They hit him like a poisoned arrow right between his eyes.

"Why don't we dissolve this, Chakotay? It's been almost three years, and I - "

"We were friends once. Great friends. Please, have patience. I do love you..."

Her eyes flashed, whether from fury or injury, he didn’t know.

"You loved Seven of Nine. I understand that it's not something that will go away next time we have sex. We both married for the wrong reasons. Mine's different from yours, but equally wrong."

"Then why don't we fight for it?"

"What is there to fight for?"

"Everything, Kathryn," he had responded with heat. "Everything! We were best friends once!"

"And now we're strangers. Tell me, why won't you let me go?"

He could tell her he was falling in love with her. He could tell her he couldn't live without her anymore. That was what astonished him. He had prayed that one day he could love Kathryn again, deeper than when they had been on Voyager. Then it happened. When, where or how, he couldn't fathom. It grew, stealing up on him like a thief in the dark night, making it worth waking up again in the morning and seeing his precious Kathryn next to him. He could tell her that, whatever the motivation behind his asking her in the first place, and hers for accepting his proposal, he couldn't accept that his marriage was failing. He couldn't accept failure. Same as he knew Kathryn would never admit to failure. Had he been holding her back? If she wished to leave, there was nothing he could do.

They had reached an impasse. 

For some bizarre reason, he was glad of the impasse. It kept Kathryn married to him. Even if... He rubbed his hands over his face and grimaced at Kathryn's words at breakfast. Why had they married when there was so little foundation for a solid union?

Seven if Nine. Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix 01.

After seven years of Kathryn’s cold-shouldering in which she turned hot and cold on him and turned him into a begging dog, he had given up. His heart, ego and sensibilities bruised and shattered, he had responded to Seven of Nine's ministrations, her love, her uncomplicated and unconditional affection for him. Seven had begun to reach out to him,  and the initial flattery that he could be needed by someone and that she found him attractive, soon turned to something deeper. They shared their first kisses; Seven had been an apt pupil ready to learn everything. In his arms, she gave everything in full measure and held nothing back.

They made love. His brain and heart too ablaze in the exploration of his new-found freedom, he had lost count of the number of times that they had made love before their return home. Seven was generous, and he had poured his heart and soul into the relationship that asked so little and gave so much to both of them. He had been happy, overjoyed. He’d pinched himself several times in disbelief that someone could need him so much and wasn’t shy about expressing that need, whether in words or deeds. The desire that he be loved for himself too, that his happiness mattered to her, made him shower her with his feelings which, after only a few weeks with Seven, he had realised, was turning to love. Nowhere was there a figure of doom or a mysterious entity in his subconscious telling him that it was all a mistake, that it wasn't real. He loved her; she drew from him passion that was blinding. Afterwards, he would hold her tightly to him when, like a little child, she would sob in his arms.

He could never wait to get off duty, never wait to sit down to dinner with her. Some days he waited for her in the cargo bay, standing in front of her regeneration alcove, waiting for her to wake and step down. Her eyes would glow with fire as she stepped into his embrace. They'd make their way to his quarters in great haste because he hadn't been with her in two days. The minute they stepped into his cabin, he'd look at her and say, "I can see you're wet and ready, my love," before he'd tear her suit from her body, fall to the floor with her and make passionate and blazing love.

She wanted to learn about lovemaking and he was the very willing tutor, who introduced her to so many aspects of the act of lovemaking that she'd scream his name and he'd hear it echo into his dreams long after they made love. He loved her, loved her body that sang to his touches.

Seven could be amazingly soft and feminine one moment and the tigress the next; lovemaking was never the same from one night to the next. They slept together, made love, made love again, then slept, then made love again. And it was very good. Gradually, Kathryn left his heart and all he could see was the once aloof, cold former Borg who, at night, whimpered delightfully in his arms as she reached her peak. And many times she cried, the emotion too much, the moment of climax so overpowering and thunderous that it left her breathless, dizzy. Then he would look at her, free in her passion as she lay beneath him, her sheath reluctant to release his still throbbing flesh. He would smile gently, tears in his eyes as he bent to kiss her fiery mouth, remaining locked like that for endless minutes.

Seven of Nine had given him back the ability to feel and to love again. Before Seven, Kathryn was always hovering at the perimeter of his consciousness, where  he had been stunned and stunted emotionally. Theirs had been a relationship full of complex layers. Kathryn had kept him dangling between love and hate, and he had grown a shell thick enough to withstand her saying 'no' time after time to him. Until Seven of Nine - Annika Hansen.

"I love you, Annika," he had whispered in the darkness of his cabin, holding her as if he could never let her go. "I love you so much..."

It had been so hard to get Annika out of his mind and heart...so damned hard.

Chakotay closed his eyes at the memory, hitting his hand against his head to drive it away, out of his mind.

Annika Hansen...who had callously betrayed him.

How could Kathryn know that last night, when Seven threatened to derail him again, it was in warning and frustration that he cried out her name? He had wanted her to go away. She had been gone for months from his heart and mind and conscious thought. Just last night... Her image, the red lips curling in a taunt.

Seven had played a brilliant game with him. He had been too proud to admit he had been caught by her. Now, he wanted her gone forever because she was destroying his marriage to the finest woman, who didn't deserve such unhappiness.

Chakotay touched the cool glass of the photograph, his fingers caressing Kathryn's smiling lips.

"I guess you won't forgive me soon now..." he murmured softly.

A knock on the door alerted him that it was time for his next class. A group of third year cadets for Tactical Training Theory. As he left his office to welcome them to the class, he thought that he'd go to Kathryn's office after classes and talk to her about their marriage. He didn't want to give up. He sensed, perhaps only belatedly, that she wanted him to ignore her suggestions of giving up on what she called their farce. Calling Annika's name when he reached his peak had turned Kathryn ice-cold and unable to unwind again. It was a bitter pill to swallow that he couldn't give her pleasure in bed, yet whenever he turned to her to initiate lovemaking, she never rejected him. She sought him during the night to lie close to him, always wanting to lie in his arms, nuzzling her face in his neck. Sometimes, he would hear her sigh as she settled into sleep. Sometimes, they'd be in the lounge and he'd catch her smouldering look. She wouldn't demur when he lifted her up and carried her to bed, always hoping that tonight was the night everything would come right.

Kathryn wasn't stupid. She wanted to save what could be saved as much as he did. He had never known her to back out of anything. She wouldn't back out now.

He was sure of it.

"Good afternoon, Professor," said Douglas Carey, son of the late Joe Carey as he entered the room.

 

*********

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

Kathryn's office was on the first floor of Starfleet Command and overlooked the spacious gardens kept in meticulous condition by Boothby. It was almost 1900 and Kathryn was still in her office. Lately she had taken to arriving home at 1930, exhausted after a full day starting at 0900. Her work with Admirals Paris and Ponsonby, her stepfather, was intensive, giving her little time off. What time she allowed herself was spent in the gardens, and when Chakotay was free for a spell, he'd join her there. They'd talk somewhat stiltedly, his heart flaring with hope when she cocked her head in the familiar way she had on Voyager, or lifted the corner of her mouth after he said something humorous. At least Kathryn fulfilled her role as the wife of an Academy professor, and he, the husband of a Starfleet admiral. It was good to be seen together, and many times they would attend concerts at the Juilliard Conservatoire or the Paris Conservatoire. Sometimes they would attend an opera at the Metropolitan Opera House. Not that he liked opera very much, but he wanted to be by Kathryn's side, smell her perfume and just press his hand against the small of her back as they sauntered through the foyers of concert halls and art galleries.

Most days, he was home first and he'd prepare them dinner so that by the time she arrived they were ready to sit down and enjoy their meal. In the beginning, he had visited her in her office often, but as things began to take a downward spiral, those visits had decreased. Kathryn was strained most times, especially after a night like last night. On rare occasions, he'd wait for her to finish, pretending that he had to prepare lectures for the next day. Then they'd go out to a restaurant, or she'd laughingly fix dinner, saying the replicators still hated her. It was easy then to fool himself into believing that everything was fine with them.

He wasn't expecting her to forgive him or forget what happened during the night, but he was desperate now. Kathryn had never openly said it, but his days in her apartment were numbered. He was afraid that she'd throw him out like Seven of Nine had. Kathryn would leave him, or she would instruct him to take his bags and walk. It was a prospect he couldn't bear to entertain.

Her tears this morning had left him unable to handle the situation and he’d fled their home in helpless consternation at her anguish. There had been nights that she begged him, pleading, coaxing herself into a frenzy that left her frustrated, exhausted and tearful until he would sigh and pull her into his arms and murmur an apology. He had needed time. That had been his mistake. There had never been any real closure after Seven had left, and he’d struggled during the first two years, grappling with his emotions, his love for her and the manner of her betrayal.

The night air was cool for early summer as he walked across the lawns and entered Starfleet Command. At least he didn't have to press her door chime. She had given him her codes when they married, same as he had given her carte blanche to use his codes if she wanted to come to his office. The door opened after he entered the code and he stepped inside her spacious office. Kathryn was standing by the window, looking out over the lawns. It was dusk, light enough that he could see her expression in profile. She looked exposed and vulnerable. She turned, walked back to her chair and sat down.

"It's almost 1900, Kathryn. We could go to a restaurant, if you don't want to dine at home..."

"We need to talk," came her rejoinder.

"Kathryn, I - " he started, seating himself opposite her, "I agree." He looked at her face, now composed, a radical change from the raw look of earlier. There was a deep sadness, a melancholy air about her, and his insides shrivelled, knowing that he had put the sorrow there.

"We really can't go on like this. It's been three years. I thought it would work out eventually. I was...wrong..."

It was the closest she had come to admitting to failure. She was proud and so was he; they had to work at finding their own remedy. Kathryn looked away, then an impulse caused her to twist out of her chair and stand by the wide window again. He joined her, his hand wavering above her shoulder where he wanted to rest it. Her bearing seemed to scream that he not touch her. With a small sigh, he dropped his hand.

"Kathryn..."

She turned her head. Her arms were folded, the way he had seen too many times on Voyager. Was he going to get anything out of her? he wondered.

"What is it?"

"Do you love me, Kathryn?"

Her face paled. She blinked once, twice, before her eyes filled with a sheen of tears.

"I've loved you for a very long time. I was...foolish enough to think you'd wait. You and Seven...when you were together on Voyager... The crew talked, you know. Some of it came back to me. Not nice things. They were saying how happy you were with Seven. They were saying I made you wait too long. How could a man wait seven years for a woman to say to him 'Yes, I love you. I want to be with you for the rest of your life.' They - " She paused, facing the lawns again in a jerky movement.

"What else did they say, Kathryn?" he asked, his voice hoarse with pain. He didn't know... How could he know?

"I was a frigid old queen who cared mostly about getting her crew home and forgot how to be a woman with a warm heart and a warm body..."

"That can't be - "

"It's true!" she retorted heatedly. "But I can't help what I became! They were right! It was just so hard to swallow, what they were saying... There were other, more unflattering things..."

"You are the most caring person in the universe, Kathryn. Every member of your crew could attest - "

"Seven of Nine had more heart," she cut in, "and infinitely more body to pleasure Voyager's first officer."

"Kathryn, spirits!!"

"Sex would be better with Seven than lying between the legs of a comatose shrivelled old bitch."

"Stop it! Stop!"

"Don't they wish they could haul Captain Janeway to Commander Chakotay's cabin and make her watch Seven whimpering with passion as he screwed her senseless? Janeway needs to learn a thing or two about opening her legs for any man to make her more woman..."

He hadn’t known. The crew loved her, in the name of the spirits. How had these things slipped past him? He had chosen Seven. It had always been his choice, right or wrong. But their reaction... Was it borne out of their sharp disappointment? They had always told him how perfect Kathryn looked with him, how they expected their command team to make an announcement soon... How had these completely awful and unfair charges come to her? How could Kathryn not be bitter? He felt the bile rise in him, felt how his eyes stung with tears he wanted to shed for her.

He hadn’t known.

He knew Kathryn. She wouldn't talk about something so deeply hurting, something that ate like a cancer into her wounded pride. He had been utterly unaware of her sorrow.

Kathryn's eyes swam with tears.

"Don't flog yourself, so, Kathryn," he said quietly, finally plucking the courage to touch her shoulder, pulling back his hand when she flinched. But he wasn't going to give up. He touched her hair.

She turned her head so that she could look at him.

"It's the only way I can believe this - this farce. They said - " Kathryn closed her eyes. She tried with superhuman effort to control the betraying tears.

"No more, Kathryn... You are punishing yourself. Don't say  - "

"They said how good you were with Seven, that you were enjoying stupendous lovemaking with her. Janeway couldn't give you that even if she turned herself into a Borg..."

Too stunned at her revelation, Chakotay pulled her gently into his arms. She felt warm, almost feverish as she pressed her face against him. Moments later, however, she pulled away from him, her eyes bloodshot, her bearing one of defeat.

"I can't compete with her memory anymore, Chakotay."

"We can work things out..."

"We thought that three years ago. It's not working. I can't stop myself seeing and hearing her with my husband, in my bed. You know, on Voyager..." Kathryn battled for a few seconds to check her emotions. "On Voyager," she continued, "you and Seven were pretty vociferous at times. There was not a night I didn't hear you..."

"God, Kathryn!" 

"I know. I was punishing myself. I wanted to blank out the sounds, but instead I lay listening, hearing how happy you were. I saw how happy you were. I couldn't give you that..." A pause. "I love you," she whispered, her voice haunted. "Yes, I love you. But I can't make you happy... It's ironic, isn't it?"

He didn't know what to reply as she took her briefcase and started towards the door. Grabbing her arm, he turned her to face him again. It hurt him to the core too, that he couldn't make her happy.

"It's so ironic," Kathryn repeated her words. "There was a time I was arrogant and complacent enough to think that I was the centre of your universe, that just by sitting next to you on the bridge, being friends, talking in my quarters or yours, or playing Velocity, or enjoying our weekly dinners..." Kathryn gave a sob, then finally threw herself against him and for a few minutes wept with abandon. When she stopped eventually and stood away from him, she said, "I thought it was enough..."

"I'm not giving up, Kathryn."

"And I'm not getting orgasms, Chakotay," she said with deadly honesty.

He blanched.

"Dammit, Kathryn. Give me a chance!" 

"How long? Another three years in which you call out her name instead of mine?"

Again he pulled her into his arms again, but she pulled herself out of his embrace.

"You want to give up," he said, suddenly defeated.

"I've had time to think today. I have leave due. Two months accumulated. I want to take a vacation somewhere. After that, we can talk again. I need time...away from you, you understand?"  

He felt relief so keenly that his knees almost buckled. Two months reprieve... At least she hadn’t thrown him out of her life outright. He was expecting her to be resolved about the matter. Now, she needed time. If that was what she wanted...

"Let's go home, Kathryn, and we can talk some more about it, okay? Can I ask you something?"

A wan smiled formed around her mouth.

"What is it?"

"Please, I know how you like to lie in my arms. Will you lie in my arms tonight? Just so I can feel you're still near me..."

His heart thundered as he waited for her reply. Somewhere in his conscious, he conjured up an image of Kathryn lying in his arms on New Earth, teasing him, then leaving him.

"I'd like to lie in your arms...tonight," she promised.

********* 

It was late. They had supper, which he’d prepared, just after they returned home. Their apartment, which had once belonged to Kathryn's parents, was spacious and consisted of three bedrooms; the small dining room just off the lounge was usually where they had dinner. Although some of the air had been cleared between them, Kathryn had been quiet throughout dinner.

He had admitted to her that he hadn't known how the crew talked, and her response had been short, as if she hadn't wanted to think about it anymore. Kathryn had declined his invitation that they go out for the evening, saying that she needed some rest.

"We could visit the holosuites and unwind with Velocity," he suggested.

But she had shaken her head. "I'd much rather stay in tonight, if you don't mind. I can read..."

"That's alright, Kathryn. I...want you to be happy, you know," he said, his voice trailing into the silence when she leaned forward to touch his hand.

"I know, Chakotay. But I asked for - "

"Time... Two months..."

"Yes."

Then it had been quiet again, their meal completed in silence. Kathryn had soaked in her tub, donned her nightgown and robe, slipped into a pair of slippers and made herself comfortable on the couch with a book.

She looked beautiful and fragile; from time to time she glanced up at him, giving him a wan smile. He was working on a sand painting. He called it Aquamarine, a picture of an inky blue ocean with a tiny sailboat sailing into the sunset.

Later he had seen how she nodded off and he had woken her gently and asked if she wouldn't be more comfortable in bed. He resisted the urge to lift her in his arms and carry her to their bed. She walked stiffly to the room and he remained in the lounge working on his painting.

After midnight he decided to call it a day and joined Kathryn in bed. She curled up against him, her leg thrown over his. He was afraid to initiate lovemaking tonight. Kathryn flinched a little when he touched her, sliding his palm along her thigh.

"Please..."

"Sorry."

He knew she was afraid he'd embarrass himself again. He was afraid that once again her body wouldn't respond to him. It hurt him deeply that he couldn't make her happy. He so very badly wanted to see Kathryn laugh, as she had in those first months and during the time they had spent on Risa.

They had talked about her vacation. He didn't want her to go, but accepted and respected her wish that she needed time away from him. It was their last ditch attempt to save their marriage. He had been inordinately glad that Kathryn didn't want to end it. They had discussed ways to improve their situation. Chakotay closed his eyes. She was going to be away for two months. She had been positive when they talked, saying that she'd like to give him - and herself - another chance when she returned.

Kathryn drifted off to sleep gradually. He looked at her sleeping form. In deep sleep she was comfortable, vulnerable. As she wormed herself closer to him, he felt the prick of tears behind his closed eyelids. Kathryn loved him, but they had to find closure on so many things. In the beginning when she had comforted him with her body, there had been no foreplay, no slow build-up to the  act of sexual intimacy. He had been destroyed by Seven of Nine and in his grief, had just taken what Kathryn offered. Later, waking up slowly from his darkest moments, it had been too late. Kathryn's body had become unresponsive, no matter how hard he tried to arouse her. Out of desperation and impatience, she would sigh and tell him to get on with it. By that time, he was too far gone to withdraw. Cursing Seven during his climax was the oil he threw on the fire. Sometimes weeks went by when there wasn't any sex, and Kathryn was content just to curl up in his arms and sleep.

In the last year he had finally laid the ghost of Seven to rest. He had thought so many times about how she had devastated him, how her deceit had plunged him into deep turmoil. He made peace with her betrayal and could think of her shattering and damning announcement with detachment.

A month after the debriefings - a month in which they had been as close as they were on Voyager - Seven had come to him and told him that there was someone else.

He had hardly had time to digest her shocking revelation when she continued, "I have now completed my training in human mating behaviour. You have taught me a great deal, Chakotay, about love, about devotion and passion in lovemaking; you have prepared me well for a relationship of love which I wish to pursue, now that I'm ready to take that step..."

"Annika...what are you saying?" He was staggering from her cruel blow.

"Dear Chakotay," she said, her eyes taunting as she touched his cheek, "I had never been with a man before you. I was a virgin - untouched, untutored. I had no framework for a loving relationship with a man. Theory is one thing. Experience is defining. I now have a frame of reference and you gave it to me."

He had been incredulous and crushed by the damning sentence on what he thought they had -  a loving and caring partnership. Before his very eyes, Seven of Nine had turned into a deceitful female who enjoyed hurting him. Only the previous day he’d  asked her to marry him. Her answer had been yes, she would, and she wanted Captain Janeway to perform the ceremony of joining them in marriage. Was that part of her unimaginable devious plot - to see how far he would go in their relationship?

He had staggered away from Seven, trying to pull himself away from the look in her eyes. They had been taunting, challenging him to hold her back from her decision to take another lover. The lover had been standing nearby and it provided another colossal blow to him when he saw Meghan Delaney reaching to take Annika Hansen's hand. Meghan the gentle twin whose sister Jenny had been the more voracious one, had been the new object of Annika Hansen's desire. He had liked the twins, perhaps liked Meghan more because of her gentle spirit, and now, thinking back to that time, he realised how Meghan had spent an inordinate amount of time with Seven in the Astrometrics lab. Annika's betrayal, calculated and deliberate, her relationship with him acted out with such stunning authenticity, was what he had found so wounding. How long had Meghan been drawn into Annika's web of deceit? Annika had stood next to her new victim and turned her head in his direction, giving him a gloating smile, a smile that had reminded him of Seska.

His days after that were hazy, filled with dark shadows and a deep, numbing pain.

Kathryn had been the friend who remained his friend, his only constant in his bottomless abyss. When he asked her a month later to marry him, her eyes had lit up briefly before she said yes to him.

Now Kathryn believed that he still loved Seven. He was falling in love with Kathryn and it thrilled him to the core that he experienced with Kathryn what he never had with Annika Hansen: inner peace. And even if they had their trials in bed, he knew that they would be resolved. Kathryn had revealed much about her inner feelings and that admission in itself had been cathartic. 

Kathryn stirred in his arms and he moved so that she could lie more comfortably, smiling as she buried her face in his neck. He kissed her forehead tenderly.

"I love you, Kathryn..." he murmured softly.

 

************

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd post Chapter 4 as well to round off the first phase of the story, so to speak. Thanks!

* * *

During the next week, Kathryn prepared for her vacation. Evenings were spent searching the database for a suitable retreat. Chakotay had been most helpful in suggesting places. 

"No, I'd like sunshine every day, crystal clear sea water, pristine beaches and a house I can rent," she told him one evening.

"Risa?"

"Too many people go there. We went there three years ago. This time I - "

"I get it," he said, smiling the dimpled smile that always made her heart lurch, "you wish to be alone."

Then he got a sad look in his eyes. Did he want to come with her? She needed to be by herself, to ponder on her life and everything of which Chakotay was a part. She wanted to come back home, her mind clear about what she wanted to do then.

"Yes, I desire a solitary time."

"Then you'll have it, Kathryn. I won't bother you - "

"Chakotay! At least I'll tell you where I'll be, and you can call me once a week, maybe on a Wednesday, or something."

He looked relieved at her concession that she contact him regularly.  

"Thank you, Kathryn. I'd like to know you're safe."

"I can look after myself."

"I know. But all the same, it means a lot to me to know that. I..."

His eyes went dark with misery. On New Earth, he had been happy, happy that he could be doing things for her. And he always surprised her. She had loved that about him; it was one of his most endearing qualities.

"Chakotay, you are so very generous when you do things for me. This time, just let me be, will you? It's okay to contact me once a week. I realise it will be two months away from home and Starfleet."

He was sitting at the table working on his sand painting while she flicked through hundreds of possibilities for a vacation.

"Thank you. I appreciate that, Kathryn. Now, you don't want to go off-world, right?"

"Right."

"How about visiting one of the Greek islands? You know, in the Aegean Sea - "

"Chakotay! That's wonderful! I never thought about that!"

She got up from the console and walked to him, putting her arms round his neck. The  way his eyes lit up with pleasure was almost pathetic to see. Then, there was a flash of a Borg face and the moment was gone before they could enjoy it. Her intention to kiss him died right at the end of the flash. She gave a sigh, hearing his own muttered curse under his breath as she stood  up again.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"No matter, Kathryn," he replied, but his eyes remained dark and brooding the rest of the evening.

She couldn't bring herself to lie in his arms and shifted to the edge of the bed where she turned her back to him and fell into an uneasy slumber. In the morning, she awoke slowly to the dawning knowledge that she was lying snugly in his arms.

*************

"I wish you'd stay," Chakotay said again, as he waited for her to board the shuttle. He had wanted to take her himself, but she had objected.

"You can get one of the cadets to bring the shuttle back..." she told him. Her heart was hammering. She was leaving for the Aegean and was still not sure whether everything would work. "And Chakotay... I wish you'd stop worrying. I guess it's pointless to ask you not to."

He smiled. He was in uniform, since he had four classes that day. He looked like he didn't relish the thought of teaching today. She sighed and rose on tiptoe to kiss him. His lips felt warm, but the urge to linger was only fleeting as she released him. There was a gleam in his eyes; the brief touch affected him. A warmth spread through her as she hugged him for long moments before she stood away again.

"Goodbye, Kathryn," he said. "Come home rested..."

"Don't worry, I will. I will be the picture of health and sunshine, and you will have no option but to send me back to Naxos."

"Oh no, don't you dare, Admiral Janeway. Your husband, the Federation, your mother, sister, stepfather and Admiral Paris will be waiting for your return. Not to mention all the Voyager crew who will enquire after your health. Go well, Kathryn. I - "

"What is it, Chakotay?" she asked, her voice soft and expectant.

"No...it's nothing. Contact me when you get there, okay?"

She nodded, her heart sinking. She wondered what he wanted to say as she got into the shuttle, lowered the hatch and initiated the start-up sequence. Once she could lift off slowly, Chakotay's figure became smaller and smaller until eventually, he was no more and she was high in the clouds on her way to Naxos.

It wasn't a long journey; she engaged impulse engines so that she could sit back and relax while the shuttle was on autopilot. Chakotay would go to Indiana where he'd take care of their dogs while her mother moved to Northern California with Admiral Ponsonby, whom she married soon after Voyager returned home.

"We waited for you to come home," Gretchen Janeway had told her at the time with a happy smile. Kathryn knew Admiral Ponsonby and had liked the quiet bachelor instantly as husband material for her mother. Now, Chakotay could slip away to Indiana from time to time and "run the dogs" as he used to say. Her mother and stepfather had a housekeeper whose husband helped around the property and kept an eye on the dogs.

She thought of the previous night. Chakotay had been edgy, nervous really, as she completed the last of her packing. She had lots of books, some sketch pads and pens and the paraphernalia needed for a vacation.

"Kathryn, are you sure this is going to work?"

"You suggested Naxos. It's a beautiful place. Why shouldn't it?"

"I feel I'm a stranger to you already," he complained.

She had wanted to tell him that she felt like the stranger, but kept her counsel. Instead, she made him stop where he had been pacing the lounge and kissed him on his cheek. A quick peck that left her hungering for a deeper kiss.

"It was your idea in the first place. Just remember what we're trying to accomplish, Chakotay, okay?"

He had stared at her long and hard. There was a war raging in his eyes. Did he think of kissing her back, or pulling her in his arms, or having sex with her? She still couldn't let go of the image of Chakotay and Seven together, or their sounds during their lovemaking. It'd been more than three years, but it haunted her daily, in her waking moments and in Chakotay's sleeping moments. On Naxos she had to make her peace with that. Chakotay was right. What if it didn't work? She had to get past Seven, past his clumsy muttering of the Borg's name in his sleep or when they had sex. To give him credit, a week ago when she had been so desperately unhappy, it had been the first time in months that he’d called out her name.

She loved her husband, loved him beyond her life, but in bed, she failed him. She was trying too hard, she admitted. If only she could let go of those images or the sounds, or his whispering of another woman's name instead of her own. She had been reticent with Justin, almost as unresponsive, and with Mark... She sighed. They were comfortable with sex but without fireworks. She had wanted it that way, never trusting her own body. Mark had, as she had told Chakotay once before, become her safety net. Always, she had instinctively known that Chakotay could touch her core and light her up. Only, it didn't happen that way; there were just too many factors that determined whether or not they could explode sexually.

Staying on Naxos the way they planned was to be their last, desperate attempt to save their marriage.

"Oh, God..." she prayed out loud in the silence of the shuttle. "I love him so... Please let everything work out...please..."

She had not been aware that she had been crying until a tear fell on her hand. Wiping the dampness from her cheeks, she concentrated on preparing to touch down outside the old city of Athens.

Only now did the excitement and anticipation get to her as she looked out over the Aegean Sea, spotting the numerous islands dotted around. The shuttle, which she and Chakotay had acquired for travelling, landed gently on Athens's shuttle launching pads. From there she would take a flitter to Naxos.

*

Chakotay was forgotten for the moment as the flitter landed only twenty metres away from the house that she had rented for her stay. She thanked the pilot after he helped her down the small slope to the house, carrying her luggage.

"There are transports all over the island as well as to the other islands, Mrs Janeway. Here is one terminus close to the house that will take you to Naxos Town and from there you can go anywhere..." he said cheerfully.

"Thank you so much."

**********

It was still morning. The house with its white walls, spacious rooms and beautiful patio that led to the beach had been prepared by the Aegean Tourist Authority. All the small villages were gone and in their place had been built beach houses and hotels - a perfect island resort where anyone with too much work could wind down and recharge. She conceded that she felt the spaciousness of the cottage only because she was alone. There was a large lounge opening on a patio overlooking the sea, two bedrooms, a small kitchen, breakfast nook and dining room. There was also a studio; when she had indicated that she wanted to do some painting, they had found the perfect cottage for her.

She expected no visitors or intruders in her little retreat. The house was hidden from view and only if someone wandered onto the private beach, would she spot anyone. She had been assured that security was tight and that they would make every effort to ensure it wasn’t breached. 

Unpacking could wait. It would happen slowly, over a period of days, she imagined, smiling to herself as she sat on the patio drinking a passion fruit-lemonade blend from a tall tumbler. Now, she wanted to sit and enjoy the quiet with only the soft lapping of eddies that broke on the smooth sand not twenty metres away from her.

The sea gleamed brilliant aquamarine, making her think of Chakotay's sand painting. The painting would be completed by the time she returned, and he'd probably have started on a new one. He was so good, yet he never desired to exhibit his work.

When she finished, she went inside again and looked at the vid-com on the desk of the small alcove reserved for communication. Sighing, she sat down and initiated a comm link. Chakotay would have finished his second class by now and he would be in his office waiting for her to contact him. He had arranged that two of his senior cadets would travel to Athens where one would pilot their shuttle back to Headquarters.

"They are the most dependable in a pinch, Kathryn. I trust them. James Rollins is a real leader."

"Then it's done. If  they crash our shuttle, I'm going to blame you..." She had smiled the night she told him that, remembering the occasions in the Delta Quadrant when Chakotay had crashed Voyager's shuttles, some of them beyond repair.

And this morning... What did Chakotay want to tell her?

When her vid-com beeped finally to indicate that Chakotay had responded, she opened communication. His face filled the screen. His office wasn't big, and she could see the portrait of Voyager hanging against the wall behind him.

"Hello, Chakotay..."

He smiled, looking relieved.

"You've arrived safely with no hitches?" he asked.

"Thanks to your attention to every detail, running my vacation like a well-oiled machine, I'm here safe and sound, as you can see."

"Thank goodness. I was worried that you wouldn't call, you know. Who knows - ?" 

Kathryn sighed. What was he thinking? That she'd seek some off-world retreat where it was impossible for him to find her? The thought had crossed her mind, but what would it have served? She was still a functionary of the Federation with too many responsibilities to contemplate absconding from Starfleet. In any case, Chakotay at least deserved to know where she was and that she had, indeed, arrived safely. It was his old proprietorial air and protective habits that at times irked her a little, but that was so Chakotay. It couldn't be separated from his personality. He would always want to do everything for her and protect her. It was in his nature and she loved him for it.

If only...

"I would never think of breaking our agreement, Chakotay. It is rather sweet of you to want to check from time to him that I'm still alive and kicking."

"I hope you'll find the time restful, Kathryn. I want you to be happy..."

"The first impressions of Naxos are very positive. I arrived at 1000 and I've sat on the patio from where I can walk straight to the water's edge. It's quite idyllic. Thank you again for suggesting the Aegean. The place is beautiful and restful. I'm sure it will work wonders. Don't worry too much, okay?"

"Then on Wednesday? I'll contact you at 1900."

"Fine. Take care of yourself, will you? And please do make up the bed in the morning," she said, giving him a smile.

"Kathryn, I - "

"What is it?"

Chakotay looked away, then turned to look into the imager again.

"It's nothing. Enjoy the rest of the day..."

The screen went blank, to be replaced by the Federation insignia. Kathryn rose from the chair and walked slowly back to the patio where she sat down in a white chair and looked pensively over the Aegean Sea, wondering again what Chakotay was going to say.

 

********

 END CHAPTER 4


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

 

Naxos Town was a port on the northwest shore of the island. One of Kathryn's first visits was to the town with its many restaurants as well as a few hotels. Its main attraction was the ancient ruins of the Temple of Apollo situated on a tiny islet just north of the harbour. Once land between the two shores had been reclaimed, visitors could walk along a narrow strip to reach the Palatia where the ruins were situated. Now, a causeway joined the two shores. The temple was, in actual fact, an unfinished building project after the tyrant Lygdamus abdicated; the majestic marble gate of the temple remained the only structure visible. It was at sunset that the gate glowed red, causing many a visitor to gasp at the beauty of this gateway to the horizon.

 Kathryn had made Palatia her first visit the  day of her arrival and now, ten days later, she knew the town well.

 She had found quaint shops that sold crafts, but it was the Saturday craft market where old and young Greek designers displayed their crafts, that drew everyone's attention. On Saturdays, visitors from all over the world, and other worlds, visited just to purchase crafts, leaving again by the end of the weekend or on the same day.

 It suited most visitors that way. She smiled inwardly. She was already thinking of herself as an islander. The weather was perfect with temperatures around 28°C every day, so she had taken to wearing only tank tops and matching sarongs with Mexican open toe sandals. She had purchased the sandals the previous Saturday on her first visit to the Naxos Craft Market.

 It was therapeutic, browsing the market. She remembered the many times during their  Delta Quadrant years they had homed in on the markets of the homeworlds they visited just to browse around. From time to time, she would touch an urn, study a painting or finger the glorious fabrics they used to make sarongs, long skirts, day dresses. She had also bought herself a wide-brimmed straw hat to shield her eyes from the sun.

 "You look like summer. Anything I can do for you today, Mrs Janeway?" asked one artist, who displayed handcrafted jewellery. She had met him the previous week when she purchased a necklace from him and, like an oracle proclaiming the birth of something magnificent, he had declared that the necklace had been waiting two years for the right person to claim it. Stavros was friendly and easy going, and she found him uncomplicated.

 "I'll be here for a while, Stavros," she replied, smiling. "It wouldn't be good buying all your stocks and leaving nothing for the off-world visitors, would it now?"

 "That may be so," Stavros replied with a wide grin. "But this dainty tortoise shell necklace would only look pretty if it hangs round your neck..."

 "You told me that last week when I bought this one," she replied, touching the one she was already wearing.

 "But it's true! Just look at it! Beautiful, isn't she?"

 Stavros designated all his necklaces and bracelets as "she".

 "Not today, okay? There will be other times," she said, laughing at his comical expression. She lifted another necklace and held it so that the sunlight glinted off it, examining its intricate design.

 "Don't look now, Mrs Janeway, but there's a man looking at you! He's been staring for a while, too. I'm surprised you haven't seen him. He was here last weekend as well. Then I didn't think much about his looking at you because you're a very beautiful woman and any man cannot help but be drawn to your peerless beauty..."

 "Stavros!"

 "And you were fitting on that hat you're wearing now and your hair glinted like diamonds in the sun. You didn't notice him?"

 "How could I?" she said with a smile. "You just told me not to look."

 "Okay, Mrs Janeway. He's looking the other way. You can peep now. I think he likes you. He can't seem to keep his eyes off you... He's wearing a blue shirt..."

 Kathryn turned, looking in the direction Stavros indicated with just a nod of his head. The man stood at the other end of the first row of stalls. He had dark hair. She frowned, thinking he appeared familiar and when he turned, it was too late to feign disinterest. He had seen her glancing at him. Smiling, he raised his hand in a small salute. She acknowledged his greeting and he moved out of sight. Turning to Stavros she put down the necklace she had been holding.

 "Well, he's just one of many visitors here. He'll probably leave today..."

 "He's been following you, you know."

 She felt her cheeks flaming, not only because Stavros was openly appraising her with his youthful brashness which she thought was non-threatening, but the way he seemed convinced that she’d attracted another person on the island. But, her heartbeat quickened, making her slightly breathless.

 "Stavros, don't put a construction on something that isn't there."

 "Fine, if you don't want to believe me," Stavros said, a little aggrieved that his matchmaking had come to naught.

 The stranger was gone. She hoped he didn't bump into her somewhere else. Kathryn sauntered among the stalls. She bought a sarong, two ankle-length dresses and another pair of sandals.

 _I shouldn't have brought along so much luggage_ , she thought absently, as she strolled to the flitter that would take her home. It would be a good idea to store some of the clothes she’d brought with her, since the weather was perfect every day, and she could walk around the house in a bikini if she chose. At the terminal, just before she boarded her transport, she frowned when she saw the same man again, staring intently at her. Shrugging, she sat back and enjoyed the short ride to her house, the handsome face of the stranger not quite forgotten.

 *********  

 The sunsets were impossibly beautiful. Every evening she'd walk on the small, secluded beach or sit on the patio with an ice-cold drink and stare with almost dumbfounded amazement at the setting sun. It hovered in the sky, though she knew that the simmering heat waves created the impression that the sun was hovering. It tumbled slowly to the horizon; a gentle goodbye to all who looked at the blood red ball that slowly changed to orange as it blended with the azure sky and brilliance of the inky blue horizon. Then it settled in preparation for its final farewell, staying away until it was morning again and Kathryn could look towards the mountains when it rose once more.

 The first evening she watched the sunset, it brought tears to her eyes. It had never looked so beautiful, so unblemished, so 'missed' as she had experienced it on the first day. More than anything else, it was Earth's natural geographic wonders, its sunrises and sunsets that made her most aware that she was home. No matter where they’d reposed for shore leave, it was never quite the same. The knowledge that it was just a reminder of home was one the one of the reasons that kept them from settling somewhere in the Delta Quadrant.

 Now, as she looked at the horizon and welcomed the growing darkness, she was struck again by how at home she felt here on Naxos. She had slept the first few days fitfully, with Chakotay sometimes intruding in her dreams. Then it was the thought of a Chakotay who could make her melt with passion, sending her body into a maelstrom of heat. When she woke, it was with the pleasant feeling that he was, after all, with her.

 Her days had taken on a tableau that was without any routine. She followed her impulses, rose from bed whenever she wanted to, went for long walks along the other sandy beaches and returned home exhausted. She didn't even have to eat at regular times and only prepared something when she felt really hungry. It was the first major difference from the ritualistic habits she had fallen into her life in San Francisco.

 Kathryn gave a tense little grimace remembering how she used to slice her boiled egg through with great precision, how her fruit would be sliced in exactly even slices, the toast looking perfect and positioned perfectly on the plate; how knife and fork lay equidistant from the edge of her plate, and from the edge of the table.

 Chakotay had never said a word, but she knew he was disturbed by her behaviour.

 Now, there was no routine. She sat with a book on her lap, and when she stopped, she'd leave it lying open at the last page she was reading.

 It had gone dark now, and the lights were on in the lounge. Sighing with pleasure, she rose to fix herself a light meal. A sudden image of the man who had been watching her at the craft market and the transport terminal came to her. He looked dashing, she conceded. Stavros was right. She hadn’t been able to see the man's eyes from a distance, but guessed they had to be dark. It suited his overall looks. He wasn't young like Stavros. More around her own age.

  _He must have a family then, surely._

 On an impulse, she decided to have some pancakes. They were filled with banana and cinnamon, with toffee syrup over them. She ate slowly, with great relish, closing her eyes as the sticky sweetness laced her taste buds. She thought how strange it was that she hadn't drunk any coffee since her arrival and instantly ordered black coffee without sugar to balance the sweetness of the pancakes. She realised with a pang that she had not had any other solid food, yet after the dessert she felt replete.

 She went to bed, lying propped up against her pillows to read until her eyes drooped. She turned to look at the framed photograph of Chakotay on the bedstand. He had been smiling into the imager. It had been taken on the Risa vacation three years ago, and he’d looked relaxed for the first time since Seven of Nine had done him such a terrible injustice. His dimples were deep and achingly familiar.

 Last Wednesday when he’d called, she had been in good spirits, telling him how much she was enjoying the island.

 "The island boasts an ancient ruin, the Temple of Apollo."

 "Apollo..." Chakotay’s eyes had a yearning look in them.

 "Yes. It's situated on a tiny islet just north of Naxos port. In the old days, a narrow strip of land joined the Palatia - that's what they call the islet - to the harbour."

 "Causeways, I guess."

 "Today, yes. The marble doorway is a landmark and Chakotay, I do wish you could see the sunsets from the harbour, with the doorway framed against the red sky... It's so beautiful..."

 "I shall have to read everything. Maybe one day - "

 "What?"

 "Who knows, Kathryn?"

 She had sighed, not daring to guess at what he desired. He still looked worried and she assured him gently that it was what they had agreed upon. Then he had given her news from home. Her mother and stepfather had moved into their new home in northern California. Phoebe had gone off-world with her partner Rodea, a Bajoran she’d met at an exhibition of Bajoran Art depicting their years of Struggle. The dogs, Molly IV and Missy II, missed her. 

 "They always expect to see us together, Kathryn," his eyes creasing as he smiled.

 "When you go down again, tell them I haven't forgotten them."

 "I miss you, Kathryn..."

 She had sighed, not giving him an answer when she signed off.

 His face stared at her from the photo. It seemed to tell her, "I'm always more comfortable when you lie in my arms..."

 She settled in, lying on her side facing the photo, her book forgotten as she reached to caress Chakotay's cheek.

 When she drifted into slumber, it was the stranger's face that loomed large in her mind.

 ******* 

 Lexos had once been a small village on the north-eastern side of the island. Now there were a few houses and a white-washed temple with stained glass windows. It was a twenty first century Greek Orthodox church, which was now a chapel used by anyone who wished to find some spiritual repose. Last week, she’d found it after she had paged through the brochure for all the attractions of Naxos.

 Then she had taken a quick visit to the chapel and instantly fell in love with its simple architecture and its interior design which, while not adhering to any specific form of worship or religion, did give her that grounding feeling of being in a place of worship and intercession.

 Glad to be out of the sun, she entered the foyer, wearing an orange-yellow patterned sarong, a black tank top and her straw hat. On an impulse she removed her sandals, the stone floor cool as she walked up the aisle. Along the walls were large paintings of idyllic scenes from all over the Aegean Sea and Athens. The stained glass windows portrayed scenes from Earth's Renaissance period, depicting details of famous paintings of that period.

 Stavros had told her that the stained glass art was created by an artist called Bekimsa Roussos living on Patmos, one of the other islands. She thought how fitting it was that Naxos's Craft Market attracted so many people from all over the Federation, that even the chapel displayed the uniqueness of the region.

 This evening she was alone in the chapel. The old verger had escaped quietly into one of the side rooms at the back. The atmosphere was serene and as she sat down in the second pew from the front, she could feel herself centring again. Her bitterness, thinking about the nights in their apartment, how more and more they were drifting apart, not finding things to talk about anymore, slowly left her. They had been such great friends and, she thought, perfect friends. Then things had gone wrong. They were both to blame. Sighing, she closed her eyes for a few moments, allowing the quietude to wash over her. Her hands were folded on her lap and she sat back against the hard backrest of the pew. She loved Chakotay, and it hurt so much that he didn't love her back in full measure, trading on their friendship to carry them along. Hadn’t she done the same to him on Voyager, when she thought their friendship was enough to carry them until they got home?

 A sound coming from the back of the chapel made her sit up. Realising she was no longer alone, if she didn't count the old verger, she took her sandals, got up and walked slowly to the exit. The verger was still in his rooms, of that she was sure. The red sunset only briefly diverted her as she paused to admire its beauty. Kathryn heard the sound again, like someone had stepped on a twig. Frowning, she turned to look sideways and saw a figure emerge from a clump of olive trees.

 "I'm sorry," the man said. "I didn't mean to startle you..."

 "Why are you following me?" she asked, a little irritated and also intrigued. He stepped closer to her and she could swear he looked relieved that he’d found her. Stavros had told her that the man had been at the market the previous weekend observing her from a distance.

 "Forgive me," he said as he stood in front of her. "I mean no harm. You are a new arrival on the island and last week I - "

 "I've been here ten days, yes. Stavros told me about you yesterday. But why are you  following me?"

 Up close, she could see his eyes. As she had surmised, they were almost black. He had the tanned appearance of the islanders, probably from living every day in the bright Aegean sunshine. Strange how she didn't feel threatened by the stranger. Was it because, despite his smile, his mouth drooped a little from a secret sadness? 

 "You are alone here on vacation. And no, I'm not pouncing on women travelling alone," he started to explain. "Stavros - "

 "Ah, Stavros. The one who talks."

 "Told me you're from San Francisco and you're spending your vacation here. I couldn't help but notice you're alone."

 "And that gave you dispensation to follow me. Who are you? A stalker or protector?"

 He laughed out loud. It sounded bright and free, in contrast to the sadness around the edges of his mouth and his eyes.  

 She experienced a sudden thrill of excitement.

 "I'm sorry. My name is Ché," he said, holding his hand to her in greeting. She took his hand in a firm, comfortable grip.

 "I'm Kathryn Janeway," she said. "You have a last name, I presume? Just in case I have to report you to the authorities?"

 Another smile that transformed his features.

 "Ché Banderas."

 "Well, Ché Banderas, I'm pleased to meet you."

 "Likewise, Kathryn Janeway," he said. The smile of earlier faded the minute he released her hand then lifted her left hand, looking at the ring on her wedding finger.

 "Yes, I'm married. My husband is teaching summer school at James T. Kirk University in California. You?"

 There was the droop again as he suddenly became sober and his eyes darkened a little.

 "I was married. My wife died three years ago. I...loved her very much... I come to this chapel often for reflection."

 "I'm sorry to hear that she died," Kathryn replied, sympathy welling in her for this stranger who was no longer a stranger. She gestured to the entrance of the chapel. "I found this charming place last week and it just drew me here again."

 "It does leave one with a sense of inner peace," he agreed.

 "Are you at one of the hotels?" she asked.

 He nodded, becoming thoughtful for a moment.

 "Look," Ché said, "I have to leave for my hotel and collect my luggage. I am here again next weekend, from Friday afternoon. I live in Louisiana but spend every weekend here. I've grown to love the islands and can never get enough of them." He paused, looking uncertainly at her.

 "Is anything the matter?" she asked. She bent to slip on her sandals and when she stood up, she glanced at him. He had the advantage over her, having had time to observe her the previous weekend. Of all the visitors on the island - she knew there were many other women who travelled alone - he‘d sought out her. Last week and yesterday, he’d  followed her around the  craft market. Now he’d almost invaded her privacy in the chapel.

 "Ché?"

 "I'd like to see you again, Kathryn Janeway, if it's okay..."

 "You've only just met me... That is, if you don't count your peeping tom  times."

 "I think we could be good company for one another. Besides, I know these islands well..."

 "For someone I've just met, you're assuming an awful lot, Ché Banderas."

 Ché looked eager. She thought it was very sweet of him to ask permission, and that the company wouldn't hurt her or him. He reminded her of Chakotay with his dark hair and eyes, his height and built. While she didn't feel particularly lonely here on Naxos, it didn't mean she  was disinclined to make friends. Besides, it was time she sought the company of other regular visitors to the islands. Ché was handsome, intriguing; she felt a sudden, inexplicable attraction to this man, her heart fluttering with unaccustomed intensity. Something was happening, something that thrilled her. Her mind told her to reject his request and send him packing, literally. Her heart... Her bruised heart wanted to know this man.

 "Friends?"

 "Sure," he replied.

 "You know the islands better than I do, Ché Banderas. I could use a tour guide."

 Ché took a breath and let it out slowly. Then he smiled and took her hand again.

 "Thank you, Kathryn Janeway. I'm not normally so impulsive - "

 "Ah, and you don't normally make a habit of following women around."

 He laughed.

 "No," he admitted. "I don't."

 "Well, I'll see you around next weekend, Ché Banderas."

 They shook hands and he remained behind, watching as she walked towards her waiting transport.

 

********

END CHAPTER 5


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

"We must steal his wealth," said one sailor. "He is now very rich."

 "Not only that, my brother," said another sailor. "He is from the first family of Methymna, but Periander of Corinth is like a brother to him and we all know how wealthy Periander is."

 "It is our good fortune to have the winner of the Sicilian Festival with us! He is the greatest singer and poet of all! We should take his wealth and throw him in the sea."

 "And incur the wrath of Dionysos to whose glory he sang?"

 "Does he not have better things to do with his life?"

 "If he did, we would not have his wealth, my brother. Let us end his life now!"

 But Arion, on hearing of the plot, pleaded for his life. The sailors told him to jump into the  sea. What did Arion do? He told them he wanted to sing a sad song of death before he died. So he started to sing his death-song and played his lyre. It was so mournful and yet so beautiful that the sailors were mesmerised by his music. Arion took his chance and jumped overboard into a sea of wild creatures. But behold! Even the creatures of the sea were charmed by his music! A dolphin rose out of the ocean and carried Arion to the shore of Corinth.

 Ché paused, his eyes teasing. Kathryn couldn't believe that he’d stopped the story right at that point. She punched his chest playfully.

 "Ché! You're telling me a legend, stringing me along and then you stop right at the most interesting part," she cried in mock outrage.

 He laughed, catching the hand that rested against his chest. Kathryn sucked in her breath.

 "You're like a little child today," he said, "a child wanting to throw some stones at the storyteller."

 She wanted to shake him to continue.

 "What happened to Arion?"

 "Okay, okay! Well, Arion was carried on the back of the dolphin to the shore of Corinth. Did I tell you he was born in this ancient town of Methymna? Well, Arion and his dolphin reached Corinth before the sailors did. Periander the Tyrant - " Ché paused again dramatically.

 Kathryn sighed. Today she had to be patient. She took Ché's hand and kissed the back of it. "Please, are you going to tell me without interrupting yourself? Now what did Periander decide?"

 "Periander made the sailors confess and then killed them all."

 "How?"

 "They were crucified. Then he decreed that Arion's lyre and the dolphin be taken to the heavens where they became constellations. Tonight, Kathryn, I'll show you the constellations of Lyra and Delphus."

 "That was a beautiful story," she told him.

 "Thank you, Kathryn. It's not as if you don't know these things - "

 "But you tell it so beautifully, Ché!"

 She could see how Ché basked in her praise.

 "Let me know when I should tell you another story."

 He smiled down at her, his face clear. It was so different from three weeks ago outside the small temple on Lexos where they’d met. Then there were lines of stress and sadness about his attractive features. Now he looked animated.

 "Well, we're here on Lesbos all day," she told him. "When we get to Thermi, you can tell me about Sappho of Lesbos and Periander of Corinth."

 "I promise to enthral you, Kathryn," he said with that familiar gleam in his eyes. She gave a tiny sigh. Perhaps she should just go back to San Francisco and stay with Chakotay. This man... There was so much goodness in him. He was painfully courteous in public to her and such a gentleman. She shook her head. Her train of thought was running in a direction she didn't want to contemplate, and it was running fast, very fast.

 They had become friends naturally and quickly and it stunned her a little. The first weekend, they had walked the beaches of Naxos and found a hidden cove along the same stretch where her cottage was located, but further south. They dined in the restaurants of the island; they  stood in the frame of the marble doorway of the Temple of  Apollo and watched the sun setting. They sat quietly in the chapel at Lexos and browsed the craft market for hours until they were hungry and she suggested they buy something from one of the food stalls. Then she'd laugh herself silly when he'd  wipe a stray crumb from her mouth. She hadn't felt so relaxed in years. Wherever they walked, people stopped to stare at them. She had not bothered to remove her wedding band; the islanders were warm and friendly and didn't seem to care  whether the two of them had other partners.

 Often they had exchanged looks, Ché's eyes gleaming darkly and hers warm as they rested on him. She had not wanted to examine the meaning of those looks. They were clear enough, so she was careful not to touch him much or give him any indication that he could turn the look into something deeper. But he was strong and muscular, kind and gentle and when he smiled at her, it made her heart melt.

 Friends is what she’d asked for that first day; and she enjoyed these outings with him. She’d  thought he might not come last week. She hadn't wanted to contact his hotel even though she knew he had arrived on the Friday night. His appearance that Saturday at the market made her heart thump with excitement as she saw him walking purposefully towards her. Then he had taken her hands in his and told her how glad he was to be meeting her and that he thought that she might have returned home to San Francisco.

 Only once had he dined with her in her cottage. It was last Sunday evening, but he left soon after, pleading work the next day. She thought that he was exercising great restraint and that he had done the gentlemanly thing to return home before he even touched her hand in a suggestive way. He was a pleasure to be with, with a fount of information about the islands which he had researched. During the week, she couldn't stop thinking about him, and even when she went to bed, his face was the image she saw before falling into a deep sleep.

 The air of Naxos refreshed her, and most mornings when she went down to swim in the crystal clear water of the ocean, she took deep breaths first, inhaling the salty freshness. Then she would laze and float on her back in the still water. A little more than waist deep, she could see the ocean bed, so clear was the water. Mornings were reserved for swimming and she had developed a healthy tan after almost three weeks. She'd first swim strongly and for some distance to build her endurance and become fit again, and then laze on her back in the water, drifting for what felt like hours to her. Chakotay had been happy to see her looking so healthy and "less pinched." Then he instructed her to be careful about drifting too far out, she might find herself on the shore of another island.

 Today she and Ché were standing among the ruins of a temple of the ancient town of Methymna, and Ché had regaled her with the story of Arion who had been born here. She wore a blue dress, strap sandals and her ever present straw hat. Ché was already at the other side of the ruin, examining the foundations and the markings on the marble doorway of the Temple of Apollo. There were still two more ancient towns to visit and she was enjoying it so much she didn't want the day to end. Ché appeared relaxed in his white shirt and shorts and leather sandals and he looked incredibly handsome. He stood out wherever they went. Occasionally, she would catch him stealing a glance at her and he'd grin as if he felt guilty that she’d caught him staring. She didn't know much about him, and he only knew that she was a Starfleet Admiral. Her name didn't ring a bell for him and she was glad that there were people who didn't know of Voyager's exploits in the Delta Quadrant. It was quite possible that he knew through some elementary research, but he wasn't saying much. Besides, she liked it that way. She could meet him on a ground where there was no Starfleet, no Admirals, no businessman who hailed from Louisiana mourning his dead wife.

 Kathryn touched the column reverently, breathing in the age of the Aegean with its beauty and cultural blend of the old and the new - the myths and legends of Greece, the ancient towns built almost four thousand years ago, and the modern structures on the other islands. The Federation had been particularly visionary when it came to preserving Earth's cultural wealth, and many places, such as Lesbos Island, were preserved as they had been two thousand years ago. Old towns lay excavated, and Methymna and Thermi received many tourists every summer. Other visitors walked about quietly, hardly talking as they admired the walls and columns of the temple.

 "Kathryn..." she heard Ché calling her.

 She walked quickly to join him.

 "You're so far from me. Walk next to me, please?"

 "Of course," she responded as she took his hand and he helped her off a ledge. She gave a small cry as she  stumbled against him.

 "Hey," he said, catching her, "I like that..."

 The smile on his face froze slowly and his eyes bore into her. Her heart was racing as he held her to him. Who were they kidding? They had been avoiding this moment for three weeks. She stared at him, her lips parted, heart pounding painfully. He was standing with the sun behind him and his face was cast in light shadow. It was his eyes that spread the warmth to her very core. They were heated, glowing, devastating, and even as she tried to reason her way out of the situation, the pull towards him was irresistible and inevitable. His hands were on her shoulders and he drew her  even closer. She had no resistance as she pressed against him. Was that a throbbing in her ears that she felt as he lowered his head towards her?

 Did her mouth wait for his lips to descend?

 All she knew was that they were locked in an embrace in a cocoon of softness.

 "Kathryn..." he whispered her name hoarsely just before his lips touched hers. The touch was electric, waves of ecstasy roaring through her as she opened her mouth and heard a moan that came from somewhere deep inside him. Her eyes closed. She inhaled him, warm and very masculine. She tasted his tongue in her mouth, enjoyed the feel of it as he ran it over her teeth, touched her own tongue, sucked on her lower lip. Throwing her arms around his neck, Kathryn discarded all thought of rules, of someone else waiting for her, and revelled in Ché's burning, searching, hungry mouth on her own. He pressed her into him and she melted, the process an unending flow of pleasure and their mingling breaths. She felt weak with want, her legs buckling.

 Once when she could breathe, she murmured his name.

 "Ché... Ché..."

 And in answer to her call came his voice - rasping, tender, soft , "Kathryn...oh Kathryn..."

 Then suddenly, she broke the heat of the kiss. Her eyes burned; her skin was clammy. Around them were people, but they didn't care. She could feel the tears welling in her eyes. He looked shaken.

 "Kathryn... I - "

 "Ché...?"

 "I'm sorry, Kathryn... So sorry... I've wanted to kiss you from the first day I saw you in the market... I couldn't help it - "

 "Don't apologise, Ché. It - it was always going to happen, wasn't it? I wish it hadn't. With a soft cry, she moved out of his embrace and quickly followed the path down from the ruin to the road. She heard his footsteps behind her and when he reached her, he turned her so that she looked at him. There was confusion in his eyes.

 "What's wrong, Kathryn?" he asked quietly. "I'm sorry if I hurt you - "

 "Not you too!"

 "I don't understand."

 "Don't apologise. He - " She found it so difficult. Chakotay had never kissed her so that her foundations were torn from underneath her. She closed her eyes, this time not caring that the tears squeezed through and trailed down her cheek. "My husband..."

 "What about your husband, Kathryn?"

 "I'm not happy, you know... He apologised...all the time..."

 "Oh, Kathryn... Look at me, please..." She opened her eyes slowly. Ché's eyes were dark with pain. He brushed the tears from her cheek and kissed her again, this time on her forehead. "What happened just now was inevitable. You understand that, don't you? I couldn't stop it and neither could you. I'm not sorry that I kissed you, but I am sorry that I hurt you. I'll do anything not to hurt you. I will not touch you again. In fact - "

 "No, please... You don't have to go. This - this is new for me..."

 Kathryn couldn't remember ever feeling miserable and ecstatic at the same time. She wasn't openly rejecting him, or his kisses. His expression changed to elation as the realisation dawned that she wasn't sending him away. She cupped his cheek with her palm with great tenderness before reaching up for a brief kiss, giving herself over to the delight of the sensual touch.

 "Then use it to free yourself from the bonds that enslave you, " he said. "When we leave here, remember it as a gentle interlude, sweetheart..." Her heart burned at his endearment.

 She nodded, too mute to speak again. When they walked down the road to take a transport to  Thermi, she threw her arm round his waist.

 "So what story shall I tell you now?" he asked.

 "How about the tale of Sappho, the Poetess, like you promised?"

 Ché laughed as he looked down at her, then bent to kiss her quickly.

 "Sappho it is, darling Kathryn."

  _I am happy..._

 

**********

 They enjoyed a quiet dinner in her cottage. The day had been pure magic and she almost didn't want it to end. Ché kept looking at her throughout their meal. It was a warm, appraising look, one that excluded the outside world, Chakotay, her work at Starfleet, the memory of Ché's dead wife and his work at home.

 She felt liberated, freer than she had in years. She was willing to admit that the exotic location, the attractive man sitting opposite her, the freedom in simply enjoying her newfound friendship with him, was what gave her that feeling.

 Chakotay was distant. Their weekly communications were charming. She missed him on those nights and he would say every time without fail, that he missed her. On Wednesday, he had looked tired and the concern welled up in her. She had wanted to come home, but he wouldn't hear of it, saying that she needed the time away. Her disappointment had been sharp. There was so much more she wanted to hear from him, but to see him opening up?

 Here was Ché, whose presence exuded charm and strength all at once. He was so uncomplicated, so ready to take life and enjoy it, but especially enjoy it with her. They had walked hand in hand from the transports to her house here, and it felt so natural. She had rested her head against him and he had planted a kiss against her hair when they came in.

 "Kathryn..."

 "Yes?" she asked.

 "It's Sunday night and I - "

 She sighed. He always left for Louisiana early on Sunday evening.

 "I know. You have to go..."

 "And do you know how difficult it is to do so? Now that I have kissed you and tasted sweet nectar on your tongue?" His words were utterly suggestive and sexy and they bathed her in a golden glow of pleasure.

 They had finished their meal and were sitting on the couch in the lounge. She didn't want to sit on the patio because the chairs created distance between them and she wanted to be closer to him. He pulled her into his arms. She inhaled his musk, remembering the kiss of the afternoon, the bliss of his touch. At Thermi, they had walked naturally hand in hand, stopping to look at the columns, stopping for a light kiss, stopping just to look at one another as if they had both been very surprised by their reactions.

 Kathryn snuggled closer, burying her face in his neck. Ché gave a groan as he capitulated, pulling on her hair so that she had to tilt her head. He brought his mouth down on hers. His breath warmed her, their lips brushing, tenderly exploring, opening, moaning as her tongue probed deep inside his mouth, blinding flashes accompanied by waves of pleasure that shot through her body. God, he tasted so good.

 Ché released her, his eyes on fire. Then his mouth bore down on hers again in a stormy exchange of kisses. It was quiet in the room and only distantly could she hear the soft play of waves as they collapsed on the sand. Ché murmured her name between taking breaths and gasping as he nipped and tasted her mouth.

 "Ché...Ché..." she whispered against him.

 She was dizzy, knowing that she was sinking into an ocean of pleasure and becoming drunk from too much of it. Her head was swimming as Ché ate at her mouth. She became aware that his hand cupped her breast, kneading it gently. Her nipples sprang achingly erect, his hand fanning the fever in her body. Finally she managed to pull away from him. He looked dazed.

 "Kathryn..."  His hand very reluctantly released her breast. Her breathing was erratic, but the contact of his hand against her bosom caused lightning bolts of desire to shoot to her core where she could feel a gentle pulsating. She had given a little cry at the unfamiliar sensation. She felt wet, certain that there was dampness between her legs. Chakotay had never... Oh God... She had never felt so wet just from a touch on her breast, a finger that rubbed a nipple right through the fabric of her dress and bra... Her voice was thick with passion, but she had to send him away, away from her mouth, her probing tongue, her throbbing centre so she could remain sane.

 "You - you have to go, Ché...please."

  _Because I'm losing my sanity... I want him... I want him... I want him..._

He rose from the depths of his passion, pulling her up with him and into his arms again.

 "I can't let you go out of my life, Kathryn... Not now..." he said, tenderly caressing her cheeks, his thumbs flitting lightly over her lips. She was certain if she looked in a mirror, that her lips would be very red from their kissing.

 "And I can't let you go..."

 "Kiss me again, Kathryn. Give me your touches and your warmth and your softness to feed on for the rest of the week."

 He looked so serious that she wanted to laugh, but the look in his eyes was enough to convince her that he really needed her and needed to feed on the bliss they’d experienced today.

 She rose on tiptoe, put her arms round his neck and melted into him. She couldn't let him go, and kept on kissing, moaning instantly as she felt his arousal. This time she didn't demur when he touched her breast again and pulled her head back with the other hand so that he found the  hollow of her throat, pressing searing lips there. He caught her skin between his teeth and pulled it into a sucking motion.

 "Oh God, that feels so good," she whispered. At last she broke contact. "Now you have to go, sweetheart. I'll see you next week."

 "It's too long, but it will be enough to fan my hunger for you, darling. I - I need you..."

 "'til next week then? Can't I stay?"

 "No."

 She pushed him towards the front door, pressing her palm against his chest, thoroughly loving him, taking steps backwards until he was at the door. He touched her cheek in a brief caress.

 "Goodbye, darling."

 

 

***********

END CHAPTER 6

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some mature stuff here...

* * *

 She had thrown a light narrow scarf around her neck and smiled as she switched on the imager. The hollow in her neck still bore traces of Ché's bites. Chakotay didn't seem to notice. His eyes were on her face.

"You look well," he said on their weekly comm link. "Your tan is getting deeper..."

"And you look tired, Chakotay. Are you sure you're not coming down with something?" she asked 

"No!" His denial was prompt. But he rubbed his eyes. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'm a little tired. Haven't been sleeping well. I - "

"What is it?" she asked.

"I miss you, Kathryn. I - I know we have problems to sort out; I know it's been hard for you these three years. I can't live without you..."

Kathryn closed her eyes briefly. Ché had said he couldn't let her out of his life. But Chakotay looked so dejected. Her throat constricted. For a moment Ché was forgotten.

"I'll come home - "

"No, Kathryn. We agreed you'd stay your full two months, and it's now into the  fifth week. I just miss your presence here, at the dinner table, breakfast, or going to your office. But I must go through this as much as you need to enjoy your rest. Are you enjoying your vacation?" he asked.

She smiled gently and touched the screen. Chakotay asked that question every week. She nodded, pained at the way his face lit up.

"How are the dogs?"

"Molly and Missy have been on their best behaviour. Missy is pregnant - "

"What?"

"Don't worry. You did leave instructions that she be mated, and I took her the first week, remember?"

"We'll be grandparents?" she asked, feeling ridiculously like lighting up a cigar.

"You might as well light a cigar by that expression, Kathryn," he said. The dimples formed in his cheeks and she touched the screen again, glad to see the exhaustion fading a little.

"Don't worry. When I'm home, we can keep the dogs with us a few days."

"You will come home, Kathryn?" he asked, his eyes again dark and wounded.

"Yes," she whispered, "yes...I must come home to you, Chakotay..."

"Then it is good, my Kathryn.."

When the link closed, Kathryn sat back, pressing her fingers against her lips, thinking about Chakotay's endearment. He had never called her 'my Kathryn' before and it was so touching. Oh, why didn't she tell him that she missed him too? Why?

Ché.

***** 

They were sitting in the restaurant of his hotel that Friday night. She had decided to dress a little more formally than her casual sarongs, sandals and straw hat, which had become her trade mark on the island. Now she wore a three quarter length fawn jacket in soft draping fabric over a spaghetti strap satin top with fawn coloured trousers to complete the ensemble. She had made her way alone to the hotel in Naxos Town, as always struck by the beauty of the sunset. Sitting by a window gave them a splendid view of the ocean.

Ché had been waiting for her in the foyer. To her surprise, the first time they were in a restaurant, she’d found he drank very little alcohol. The other patrons recognised her and smiled little knowing smiles, which she ignored. Instead, she returned their greetings with a formal nod as she waited for Ché to reach her. Then he led her to his table.

"Are you worried about what they might be thinking?"

"Not particularly. I like being with you, Ché. I won't deprive myself of the satisfaction of being in your company."

"Thank you, Kathryn. You're very beautiful. Maybe they're jealous."

"I don't care. I care only that we enjoy our meal and you can hold my hand afterwards as we stroll along the beach in the moonlight."

"That would be good too," he said as they studied the menus and minutes later placed their orders. They served replicated food as well as cooked meals prepared by the island's great chef, Emile. They had both opted for cooked food, because Emile was a very creative chef and surprised them every time with a new dish. Her serving of roasted kingklip on a bed of risotto flavoured with Chardonnay and garnished with leek strips looked like a painting, too good to be eaten.   

"I missed you," she said later as she sipped her wine, his eyes resting warmly on her.

"I missed you too. I couldn't wait to get in my shuttle and come...to you."

"To me? I thought you visited the islands every weekend," she said, teasingly.

"Now I have more reason to be here, and to be alive. You are making me come alive again."

"I haven't had this much fun in years, Ché. You - you have made something in me come alive too..."

"Kathryn..." Her name slipped from his lips like a caress, husky and low. "Let's take a walk on the beach," he suggested. She could see the desire in his eyes and a thrill coursed through her. Who was she kidding? She had been waiting for him all week, and couldn't wait to see him again, to feel his mouth on hers.

Taking off her shoes and feeling the sand through her toes, she walked with Ché's arm protectively around her waist. It was already 2200; she realised they had spent a long time over their meal. She sighed contentedly as she rested her head against him, her old woes forgotten in the bliss of being in his arms. Stopping, she looked over the ocean that glistened in the moonlight, its beams throwing long streaks of gold over the ocean.

It was a magical moment as she turned into his arms and felt herself pulled gently against him.

"I missed you, Kathryn," he murmured before lowering his head to kiss her. Behind her closed eyelids the tears burned, her old bitterness surfacing momentarily at the way Chakotay sometimes planted kisses perfunctorily on her mouth or cheek. Ché caressed her face, dropping lingering kisses everywhere; she turned her head so that he could press his heated lips against a vein that throbbed in its insistence to be relieved of its throbbing pressure. She pressed into him, his arousal hard and hot against her stomach. Lacing his fingers in her hair, he pulled her back again to kiss the hollow of her throat. She had worn a light scarf when Chakotay called on Wednesday, so he hadn't seen the tell-tale sign of the bite Ché had put there. There'd be one again in a few hours. But freedom was surrendering to his ministrations and accepting the giddy pleasure as she ran her fingers through his hair, pressing even harder against him.

"Ché..."

He emerged in a daze with eyes that smouldered. She knew what he was thinking. It had been there all evening, unspoken between them. They had both acknowledged that when he came again, the rules would change and the boundaries would slink silently away like a snake into the thick grass where they would remain hidden.

"I'll take you home," he said, his voice almost slurring.

He wasn't drunk as she nodded in mute consent. Without speaking again, he took her hand and led her to the transports where she sat next to him, burying her face in his neck, her pulse racing. A few minutes later, they arrived at her cottage. At her doorstep he hesitated. There was a thunderous sound in her ribcage. She felt moist between her legs, a heat that cried for relief, beyond surprised at the new, thrilling feeling.

Ché waited. He looked like he had stopped breathing; when she gently took his hand and led him inside, she paused in the middle of the lounge as he let out a long slow breath. He cupped the sides of her head gazing at her for endless moments. Did he see the apprehension in her eyes? The fear? Her hand covered his; she gave it a gentle squeezed.

"Yes..." she whispered almost inaudibly.

Ché lifted her in his arms and unerringly found the way to her bedroom while she clamped her arms round his neck and buried her face against him.

She felt the bed creak as he let her weight down on it and a sudden wave of apprehension gripped her.

"Ché! I - I have never - "

"Shhh, my sweet Kathryn. Don't be afraid..." he assured her as he pressed his weight down next to her and leaned in to kiss her. Her senses reeled at his touch. Ché carefully removed her jacket, his hand grazing her bosom as he let it drop over the other side of the bed. Kathryn never took her eyes off him. His face was serious, focused and fevered, his dark hair already seeming to mat damply against his scalp. She grabbed his lapels, her fingers tightening their hold.

"Please, I - I'm no good in b-bed," she stammered helplessly as her eyes started filling with tears. She didn't want to disappoint him. "I'm n-not good, Ché..." A soft sob escaped her. Ché loosened her grip and pressed her arms to her sides. If she expected to see compassion in his eyes, she was mistaken. They became two coals of fire.

"Don't you know how sensual and sexy you are? Don't be afraid. It will be all right. Let your heart follow the touch of my hands on your body..." 

She gave a muffled cry as his hand covered her breast while his mouth found her lips again. Fingers prised the straps of her chemise away from her shoulders. She shifted until he slipped her top and bra down to where they bunched at her waist. Ché released her mouth and looked at her breasts, letting out a moan of pleasure, with an air of victory that danced with fire in his smouldering eyes. A cool waft of air was welcomed as her nipples stood taut and hot, waiting for his fingers, or his lips, or his tongue, or his teeth. She didn't know which part of him touched her nipples; she was drowning in a haze of sensual desire as she surrendered to Ché's caresses, reeling or drowning. She pulled his head closer to her, straining to find his mouth with her lips. She couldn't think; her senses were assaulted everywhere. The soft kneading of her breast followed by the teasing of her nipples sent her into a wild frenzy as her body started to quiver into life. She trembled violently as she allowed the fire to spread through her, arching towards him in her wanton desire to be touched where she was already spilling her juices.

Ché had anticipated that desire; he hooked her leg with his so that he could brace her and she instinctively spread her thighs. Despite the waves of ecstasy that rushed like a terrible onslaught through her, she was dizzily aware that he was slowly tugging the zipper down, pressing his fingers inside the waistband, pulling it a little away from her hips. She shifted again, wanting him to hurry but at the same time scared she might not be able to... A small cry of despair escaped her and Ché stopped instantly as he broke off the kiss. She stared at him; there was no teasing, no gloating. Her throat throbbed wildly and her bosom heaved. Still he waited for her, his hand paused on her hip. Her breathing eased again. 

"Ché...I'm no - "

"Just let yourself feel, sweetheart...  Here, feel my fingers moving over your skin... It's good..." They grazed lightly across her skin, the tickling sensation instantly making way for the heat that suffused it. Was she on fire? He stopped, keeping his eyes on her. She gasped in frustration and put her hand over his, pushing it to caress her.

"Yes...yes, Ché," she said softly. "Touch me..."

He groaned in response. Her panty slipped away and she gave another surprised little whimper as his fingers made contact with her pubis. It sprang into life, her hips lifting towards his fingers. His  palm covered her vagina and she sucked in her breath, thinking she would die of giddiness the moment her found her slit. His eyes widened, the coals of fire glowing deeper.

"So wet...so ready," he murmured. "Just the way it should be, waiting for my fingers." Her bosom heaved, her hand finding a grip on the bed cover as her body stiffened at his touch. She was so afraid of the simmer without the explosion. So afraid...

"Ché...I - "

"Shhh... Just let your body relax, sweetheart..."

She tried. Tears wanted to burst from her eyes. Ché waited, stilling the movement of his fingers. Then very, very slowly, he moved against her opening so that she spilled again, the new juices lubricating his fingers. She gasped as her muscles began to relax; her folds swelling, becoming limp and acquiescent as they parted to his slow, light massage.

"Ché..."

"That's it, Kathryn," he coaxed, "that's it... I can feel how ready you are..."

His finger dipped into her slit and she cried out shamelessly as he moved it gently in and out, his thumb splaying her dripping folds to find her little pink nub. She gasped as he massaged her clit, flicking it gently while his forefinger journeyed deeper inside her. She spilled her juices liberally around his finger as her body began to move in the rhythm he set with his hand. All the time she watched him, saw how the glow changed and the smile deepened. It pleasured him to pleasure her as he encouraged her hips to move with his hand. Her sheath squeezed his finger, not wanting him to leave her. Her mind couldn't take the onslaught of continuous erotic sensations, so she let them all wash over her in unending waves that rushed at her. And all the time his finger darted in and out, thrusting as far inside as he could go. Somewhere, the storm started to build up; the ocean rose  higher and higher.

"C-Ché? Oh God, Ché!"

"Yes...that's it, sweetheart. Feel, feel..."  

The fire storm raged around his hand; her lower body burst into flames in helpless abandon as he thrust in her. When did another finger join the first? It felt thicker... Oh, God...! Tears spilled from her as the flames shot arrogantly higher and wilder, tossing her about in their excessive force. She was reeling out of control, the spiralling vortex shaking her foundations. Lifting off the bed, her body stiffened suddenly in sensual rage.

Explosion. Blinding as the brightest sunlight. A thousand blinding sparks. There was no cry from her, for Ché's mouth was capturing it, holding his mouth over hers in a bruising kiss as he swallowed her climax. She fell slowly to earth, her body completely paralysed by the force of her crash. His fingers moved lazily, and he  heaved with her, taking in all her little whimpers that would have been heard had his mouth not covered hers, until at last, her breathing calmed, the intense throbbing only teased into wild spasms every time Ché touched her clit again, or slid in his finger.

She lay, overwhelmed by what had just happened. Her face was wet and she knew not where the wetness had come from, except that her body was now convulsing in a bout of sobs that was uncontrollable. Ché had removed his finger from her slit. In the daze of her sobbing, she was hardly aware that he had slowly stripped the rest of her clothes. When she could look at him again, he lay naked beside her.

She sucked in her breath.

"Ché..."

"Now, I'm going to give you pleasure," he growled as he braced himself over her on his elbows, his hands in her hair.

Then he started licking her, from her lips, her wet eyelids, moving down slowly to one breast, capturing a nipple between his teeth and gently nipping. Her legs spread so he could settle himself comfortably between them. Her hands were above her head, groping for something to support her. She cried out when he latched on the other nipple, sucking gently at first, becoming bolder as he caught the whole aureole in his mouth, resting it on his tongue like a baby would suck on a teat. He started sucking strongly and her core began to light up into a fireball again. A cry of surprise... Ché's body glistened and felt damp as she ran her hands over his back. She wanted to curse when he released her breast, only to rejoice when he started laving the other breast with his tongue before pulling it into his mouth. His arousal was insistently nudging her still throbbing core but he took no notice as she arched high to find that connection. He was taking his time, his tongue discovering the wonders of her navel. Kathryn moaned, tossing her head in fevered rhythm as Ché's tongue moved lower, grazing over the tuft of damp curls.

"Ché...? I - "

He was going to lick her, her mind sang with wonder. He was going to lick her! It never worked with Chakotay... Never. Ché had removed his hands from her head and was now pressing her thighs wider apart. She lifted her head once only to see the entranced look on Ché's face as he stared at her vagina, its folds soft and moist and swollen, opened like a rose showing off its petals.

"Oh, God..." she murmured as his mouth at last covered her softness. Her teeth started to chatter as pleasure ripped through her. He nipped at her folds, then pressed his mouth over her entire opening. His tongue darted like a demented penis in and out of her slit that cried for something more, but the sensation of his flicking tongue sent her careening out of control. It seemed he wanted to reach deep inside her sheath. Everything around her vagina was soaked in her juices and the moisture that dripped from his mouth. She was going to sob, she knew it. His mouth, lips, tongue, teeth - all made love to her vagina that was a helpless mass of flesh wanting to be eaten.   

Then he slowed dramatically. A waft of cold air cooled her fevered opening, allowing her to breathe at last. The reprieve was short-lived. He caught her clit by grazing it with his upper teeth while his tongue kept the slit covered. She spilled liberally around his tongue and into his mouth as the ocean heaved again. He was nibbling her clit, she thought with wild surprise, then suddenly sucking it, teasing it into a frenzy. She pushed into his mouth and bucked again with vigorous rhythm. Her hands were at her sides, gripping the cover as her body arched high, and stiffened alarmingly.

"Ché!!!! Yes! Oh, Ché!"  Her scream filled the room, swelled into the silence, shattering the fragile cocoon around them with its force as Ché never let her go, his hands pinning her knees down in the bed, her vagina throbbing wildly into his mouth. She screamed again and again as the power of the orgasm carried her to the edge and she went roaring over.

This time, Ché didn't give her a chance to recover as he slid up her body.

"Lift, Kathryn...now!" he commanded and as she instinctively lifted her hips, Ché slid into her. Her  pussy, long sensitised by the assault of his fingers and mouth, welcomed him with its tightness, adjusting to his thick cock. Her eyes felt heavy, so heavy with desire. She knew how she must look, knew how she’d always wanted to look: a wanton hussy. Her body was locked to him, her sheath filled to the hilt, thick and glorious, burning and throbbing. His fingers laced through hers above her head. His hair was damp, his forehead covered with beads of perspiration. His eyes burned into her, filled with terrifying resolve. "We belong together, you and I...always, you hear me?" he growled, the sound emanating from deep in his throat. "Feel me move into you, Kathryn... It's good..."

"Yes!" she cried in triumph as she locked her legs around his waist. He gave a cry of surprise as he sank even deeper into her. She watched his face contort as he moved, at first, lazy thrusts so that she could match his pace, then harder, faster, always using his voice to inflame her senses.

"Yes, that's it, Kathryn. You taste so good... So soft, so sweet, so tasty. Now, you're mine, my little wanton hussy. Feel me... You like it, Kathryn?"

Her heart raced; she gave little whimpers of pleasure feeling his cock fill her completely. She was drowning in pleasure. Then suddenly, he pulled out until only his tip was lodged at he opening of her slit. She watched his expression. Was it triumph? Was it pure pleasure? She couldn't decide. Her body was preparing again for another ocean wave rolling relentlessly to break against the rocks.

"C-Ché?"

"Yes!" he cried, ramming hard into her. She screamed and he repeated the action again and again until his body stiffened. There was a short, dramatic pause as he pounded into her the final time. "Kathryn! Oh, Kathryn!" he howled her name as he locked into her, her body arching high as she crashed into another explosion. He stiffened above her, heaving up straight, his body poised for the final strike. "Kathryn!!" he cried again desperately as he spilled his seed that seemed to be drawn  painfully from him. She had no idea whether they were two or one as their bodies joined in the same vortex with no clear distinction of which was her body or which was his. With every thrust after that, he moaned and called out, "Kathryn, Kathryn..." until the storm abated and he collapsed over her.

Kathryn marvelled at how he lost control in those last moments, how his face had become almost unrecognisable and ugly as he strained against her. Tears rolled unabated down her cheeks, into her neck and soaked into the cover of her bed as she held Ché's shaking body. They were still joined, her core still pulsating in the aftermath. Entranced, she listened to Ché's sobs, then realised something earth-shattering:

_I am not abnormal... There is nothing wrong with my body_

So she fell asleep later, hardly aware that Ché had shifted both of them to lie under the covers and pulled her to lie in his arms.  At some time she awoke, to find that he was fondling her breast, fingering the tuft of curls at her mound, caressing it insistently. She shifted to lie on her back, opening her legs so that he could have more room to move, tasting the salt on his skin as he bent over her, her lips finding his nipple, teasing it into erect nub.

They didn't speak as he covered her, for she was already melting into softness, her folds eagerly swelling. A sigh of pleasure escaped her as Ché filled her again, this time moving slowly and sensuously in her. Their soft moans filled the darkness, joined only by the noise of the ocean. Breaths mingled as they kissed, her body singing to his touch, knowing the exact moment she knew it would crash over the edge again. She didn't question why this happened. There was just a deep and profound gladness that Ché had freed her body. She spread her legs wider, smiling in the darkness when he groaned. When it came, his climax left them both panting for long moments before they fell into slumber again.

In the early hours of the morning, it was she who slid down the covers, seeking his soft penis. He awoke instantly, for he moved so that she could lie between his legs. Then she held the soft cock in her hand, licking it, pulling the skin back and taking the tip in her mouth, sucking gently, glorying when he became rock hard seconds later. He pulled her towards him but she resisted his urging.

"Kathryn," he murmured in the darkness, "I've never..."

"Shut up, Ché," she said after releasing his stiff cock briefly. "Lights."

The room was bathed in light. Kathryn looked at Ché who had moved to sit up against the pillows,  knees drawn up and spread wide. He was staring dumbfounded at her, his cock bobbing between his thighs.

"Kathryn...no..." he protested as she licked his cock lightly.

He surrendered with a cry as his hand gripped her head and pushed her closer to his crotch.

Then she ministered to his cock, laving it with her tongue, gently squeezing his balls. He gave little cries of pained delight at the way she squeezed him. Kathryn moved so that she could bend over him, taking his cock into her mouth. She heard him suck in his breath as she pulled him in. Her head reeled from the sensual movement as she began to thrust into him. His hands pressed her down on him, then he  suddenly decided to pull her away. She ignored his cries and sank down on him again, relishing the feel of his ridged flesh in her mouth. She could swallow him in; she felt like doing it, sucking tentatively at first, his cock growing even harder and hotter. Her head was swimming as she enjoyed the sensation of his rock hard penis lodged in her mouth. The engorged tip nudged against the back of her throat; the mild gag feeling passed as she slowly adjusted to his stiffness, gradually sucking him into the depth of her mouth.

"Kathryn!" he cried as he slid in even deeper.

A blinding flash, a wave of desire overpowered her as she kept him prisoner, her hand on his thighs, pressing them apart. She wanted to burst with the pleasant feeling it gave her to keep him lodged so deeply. "Wow..." she heard him cry as she grabbed his hand and pulled him to a kneeling position. Pressing her palms against his butt, she coaxed him to move forward. Her eyes filled with tears. Ché seemed reluctant to move, but with her insistent pushing of his butt towards her, she felt the instant he surrendered again, grabbing her head and thrusting slowly. It felt so good...so good... She wanted to hold on to him forever. His hips moved in a slow cadence until she felt how the thrusts became stronger and stronger. Ché gave one final push and spilled into her. She watched fascinated as he pulled his length slowly out of her mouth.

Ché looked stunned, incapable of coherent speech as he pulled her up and held her close. His hands trembled and, as she rubbed against his body, she could still feel his shudders. His eyes were glued to her mouth and fingers that quivered touched her lips in reverence.

"I've always wanted to do that," she whispered huskily, before she pulled him down and snuggled against him. Still, he remained quiet, but hugged her so fiercely to him that she smiled before ordering the lights to darkness again. He wanted to turn her on her back to pleasure her, but she stopped him. .

"That was for you, sweetheart. You have the rest of the weekend to make love to me..."

He sighed as he spooned her to him and minutes later she heard his even breathing as he slept again.

In the new, awed silence in which only the sound of the ocean could be heard, she matched her breathing with his until she drifted finally into pleasant slumber.

 

 

*******

 

END CHAPTER 7 

 


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

The shores of Naxos were uneven. Bright sandy beaches were often interrupted by small rocky promontories that, once rounding them, led to hidden coves and small hidden caves. The inlets were surrounded by undergrowth; when the tide was out, one could walk easily across the short sandy stretch and continue along the shoreline.

 The Aegean Tourist Authority mapped hiking routes along the entire island coast, with some day hikes and a few five day hikes. It was amazing to discover that a part of the world on which one was born and had lived for fifty years could yield so many cultural treasures as well as varying physical features that at times had one gasping at their beauty.

 Ché Banderas trudged barefoot through the thick sand along the beach about three kilometres away from the house. Now he saw the promontory and followed the track along the hilly incline, through thick brush until the path dipped towards the next beach. The sun was out, having already lost its red glow, and the water glistened in its stillness as he  walked. For a moment, he regretted not putting on his shoes. They were not suited for this walk anyway, and he'd move faster without fancy shodding. This stretch of beach was longer. There were only two cottages that he passed, perched high on the hill and not as close to the beach as Kathryn’s rented cottage. He had only to walk this distance before he reached the next promontory.

 He wondered absently if the other tenants had never known of the tiny cove almost completely covered by bush, with the water, even at low tide, offering very little passageway straight across. Since the tide was out, it would be easy to reach the cove. Perhaps the other visitors weren't interested as he and Kathryn had been when they found it two weeks ago. She had been ecstatic, openly effusive about how clear the water was inside, with sandy patches only large enough to spread a blanket and open a picnic basket.

 "Perfect for midnight feasts," she had said that day. He had been completely thrown by her openness, her restfulness in his company.

 "Or midnight trysts."

 "Ché, I was being very conservative here."

 "I understand," he replied, laughing at her mock outrage.

 He was breathing a little hard from the exercise. If he admitted it aloud to himself, it was the night's brilliance in Kathryn's arms that still made his body quiver just thinking of how they’d made love. Their sharing had been enervating, and he’d only slept in spurts between bouts of their lovemaking. He was dressed in a light T-shirt and shorts that he had to replicate because he couldn't walk over rugged landscape in the suit he’d worn last night.

 It was only 0830 and already it was hot. He wiped his brow, then continued doggedly until he reached Devil's Cove - the name they dubbed the tiny inlet. Maybe he should have replicated a pair of sandals as well. But then, he wasn't thinking. He winced when he stepped on sharp twigs, pushing the brush aside for the concealed trail that led to the heart of the bay and the small cave inside it.

 If Kathryn had thought to escape to any part of the island, it would be here. She had been uncommonly intrigued by it, and he wouldn't be surprised if she came here during the week. Using her recorder which lay on the counter in the kitchen wasn't the way he wanted to look for her.

 Kathryn was...

 He sighed. Earlier, when he had opened his eyes, expecting to see her, she was gone. After a quick search he ruled out the house and the beach. She went swimming most mornings. The sea lay gleaming alone. There was no Kathryn.

 He sighed as he entered the dark cave, large enough that he could walk upright in it. There was just enough light to reveal Kathryn's presence on a patch of dry sand. Her back was against the wall of the cave, but it was her posture that worried him. She sat with her knees pulled up, and her head resting on her knees so that he couldn't see her face. There was an air of total desolation about her. She must have heard him enter; he trod slowly and carefully. Her body moved slightly, indicating knowledge of his presence.

 He knelt in front of her and placed his hand on her arm. She wore a short sleeved dress that flattered her tiny waist and flared about her ankles. A few weeks ago, she had worn it too when they were on one of the other islands.

 "Kathryn..."

 She was troubled. After last night, her hesitant stammering of not being good in bed... Waking up in the bright light of day to find a lover who was not her husband, lying wrapped in his arms. Yes, that was what troubled her.

 The first time he had seen her, he knew that his life would not be the same again. After his wife died, there had not been another woman with whom he wanted to become vulnerable again. He had imagined that doing so would lead to much pain and disillusionment and he had never been willing to take that chance again.

 Then he saw Kathryn and felt the immediate attraction. As he got to know her better, it was not just her beauty but other qualities that drew him to her. She was smart, sexy, refined, but also compassionate and endearing and strong. That was what he sensed in her: strength and vulnerability curiously blending to make her utterly unique. He had known that he wanted to be in her company; had known that they would grow close, had known that he wouldn't be afraid of being vulnerable with her and had known that last night was inevitable, for him and for her. They had hurtled like heavenly bodies on a collision course to a fateful explosion between them.

 Kathryn had known it too, but he had sensed her fear right from the start. She wore a wedding band, was alone on the island, according to Stavros, for two whole months. That told him more than what she’d left out of any information she had given him about her husband.

 She admitted she wasn't happy with him and it was an admission that was wrenched from her very soul. His heart bled for her, for her unhappiness and her loneliness. She could laugh one moment and not realise how her eyes would suddenly grow dark from some remembered pain. That, more than her beauty, drew him to her. She needed someone close, someone who could understand her pain and just reach out to her. Her husband should be that person.

 From her almost incoherent revelation, Che had been astonished to learn that she had never experienced lovemaking with her husband like she had with him during the night. Kathryn had been warm, utterly and incredibly sensual and natural in bed with him. And he had been astounded at her generosity, the way she responded to him. They had been one last night and it was heaven.

 What was it with the errant husband?

 "Kathryn," he called her name again, still softly, not insistent. He didn't want to scare her off into her shell where she couldn't be hurt again.

 Slowly she lifted her head and stared at him through eyes that were bloodshot. She must have been crying a lot. He took her hand in his and she didn't pull away like he feared she might. Some light filtered into the cave and he could see her face. She was dejected, disconsolate and so very unhappy he wanted to rain kisses on her and assure her a thousand times that everything would turn out all right. Her throat work as she swallowed.

 "My husband is Professor Chakotay - Advanced Tactical lecturer at Starfleet Academy. He also teaches Cultural History and Anthropology..."

 "I know." Chakotay sounded to him like an important man.

 "I thought you might. It's not classified."

 Kathryn stared out the cave, her eyes roaming the ocean, deeply pensive for a few minutes. Her lips trembled and he realised what a tremendous effort it was for her not to break down. She faced him again.

 "He was also  my first officer on USS Voyager for seven years in the Delta Quadrant."

 "You knew him well, then."

 "We became friends...best friends..." Another long pause. "The nature of our work and our situation in the circumstances in which we travelled required the kind of relationship unique in Starfleet." A tear formed at the corner of her eye, then rolled down her cheek.

 "I guess you felt you couldn't have a personal and intimate relationship - " he started.

 "Starfleet, protocol, fraternisation rules, Federation Laws, duty to my crew..."

 "But?"

 "I loved him. Seven years is a long time to love a man without - without..." Kathryn struggled, but he left her alone, only rubbing the back of her hand. "Without wanting to throw myself at him and forget that I had a mission..."

 "So you traded your love for your mission, to get Voyager home."

 A tear dropped hotly on his hand. It was followed by another and another. He waited. Later when the silent flow stopped, he brushed her cheeks dry.

 "He fell in love with someone else... I thought he would never fall for anyone...that we had enough to carry us in a friendship. I thought once we got home, I could tell him I was ready now. I was wrong..."

 "You thought being friends was enough for a man. Did he love you, Kathryn?" Ché asked, not wanting to hear her answer.

 "He - he said it. But never  in the way I thought he had to mean it. Chakotay...fell for another woman on board. He loved her. Everyone could see their open display of affection. I- " There was another pause. Kathryn's eyes were closed, and another tear ran down her cheek. "He changed, became a happy man, and she made him happy. I was - "

 "What, Kathryn?"

 "Jealous, miserable... I had to remain the captain, the commanding officer who loved her first officer but wasn’t allowed to show it, who made him wait too long..." Kathryn opened her eyes. He wanted to tell her to stop, the pain was too deep and she was hurting like hell.

 "Kathryn, you don't - "

 "Then a month after we arrived in the Alpha Quadrant, Seven of Nine - "

 "Seven of Nine? That was her name?"

 "It was her designation. A former Borg drone we reclaimed from the Collective. Her name is Annika Hansen."

 "And Chakotay loved her..."

 "He loved her deeply."

 "I'm sorry, Kathryn, for your pain..."

 "Seven left him. She had taken another lover. To this day, he’s never told me what she said to him, but whatever it was, it broke his heart. She destroyed him, destroyed him as a man. I stood by him, and watched him slide into deep depression. Another month went by and he asked me to marry him. He - he..."

 "Needed your friendship, I guess."

 "It was a mistake."

 Then Kathryn suddenly stood up, throwing him off balance. By the time he recovered, she was out of the cave, walking through the undergrowth. He followed her until she stood on a pristine stretch of beach again where the sun bathed his cooled skin.

 "Kathryn, what happened to make you so unhappy?"

 Her faced creased with acute shame and embarrassment. He had given her body intense pleasure during the night. The way she responded, a wanton hussy whose eyes had remained like pools of heavy passion. Her sweet cries, her intense peaking. He had thought she'd pass out from the fullness of it. And she had been so afraid that she couldn't perform... She tasted of everything sweet. He had never known such oneness. Not even with his wife.

 Now Kathryn looked at him, deeply unhappy.

 "Last night... I have never been touched like that by my husband, you know... We were...two automatons." It rocked him that she could tell him something so deeply personal. She stuttered when she spoke again. "I n-never knew my body could - could respond that way. And..."

 "And what, sweetheart?"

 "Chakotay...whenever we had sex ..." The connotation was revealing. She had sex with her husband and lovemaking with him. "I couldn't forget how he loved Seven of Nine, Ché. His cabin was next to mine. I - I heard them...night after night..."

 Kathryn clamped her hand to her mouth, and gave a few sobs. He pulled her into his arms. She was shivering, despite the heat of the morning.

 "Kathryn, what we had last night...it was magic for me. I know it was for you, too. But I am not your husband whom you love, and that is what troubles you."

 Kathryn turned a tear-stained face to him. Her eyes were fevered, bloodshot.

 "It was my fault. I thought I was abnormal. I kept thinking of what he had before me, of his lover, and then every time he touched me, I froze. Last night, all through the night, Ché, you called my name. You made love to _me_ , not to a shadow, not to a ghost. I was your world, and you were mine." Kathryn's tears flowed freely now and she stammered forth. "You called my name all the time. I heard my name and I felt so special, wanted and needed... Something in me exploded just knowing I made you feel like that."

 "Oh, Kathryn, sweetheart..."

 "He never called me anything, and every time it was her name he cried in his sleep, when he - he fucked me - "

 "Kathryn!"

 "That's right, Ché. It's all we ever did. In the beginning I thought it was okay, I was  helping him. Then Seven of Nine came and lived in our bed, every night. We fucked, and even then she was there and he cried for her..."

 Kathryn sailed out of  his arms and collapsed on the sand, crying in hopeless abandon. He sat down next to her and she threw herself in his arms. He rocked her gently while she sobbed

 Staring out over the ocean, his eyes touched the horizon. He imagined that he saw her in the distance calling him, her hair soft and blowing in the gentle breeze, her eyes laughing because she was happy. A tear slipped down his cheek. He hadn't been aware that he was crying, too. They were two lonely souls drifting in the Aegean until they’d  found one another and shared something beautiful. He knew he had found a new love, a new life, however short it had to be. Kathryn meant everything to him, but right now she was wracked by guilt that she loved her husband, but found enjoyment in intimacy with another. He didn't think that she and her husband were physically incompatible, but what Kathryn revealed to him with such distraught outpouring, was surely enough to destroy her. Captain of a starship, Admiral in Starfleet, cold in bed with her husband... This could happen to any woman.

 Kathryn had stopped crying and she looked at him with her tear stained eyes. He couldn't resist kissing her, his lips brushing lightly over hers. He pulled her up with him and held her very close, his hand pressing her head to his chest.

 "You know that you're a very sensual woman, Kathryn. Very, very erotic." Did he feel her smile when he said that?

 "I always thought I could be, Ché. And you brought it out."

 "You gave me so much pleasure, I hardly knew to breathe. I was lonely for a long time, and coming to these islands... I was always searching, hoping that I would one day find the nymph that would make my life worth living again. You have given me so much in the month we've been together. So much," he whispered, pressing his lips in her hair again, and feeling how his eyes burned. Kathryn's arms gripped tighter round his waist. They stood locked together until at last, she pressed gently out of his arms.

 He thought he could never get enough of just looking at Kathryn Janeway. Her hair glinted in the sun. She looked fragile, petite, with an amazing strength, yet so tiny, he wondered how she had the strength to command a starship through an arduous journey of seven years. Had she withstood mutiny on her vessel, as he’d heard from others? How many crewmembers' lives had she influenced for the better? How many crewmembers had died during their arduous trek?

 The first time he had seen her, he had known that his life was going to change. Did the same happen for her husband, Chakotay?

 Kathryn wore dresses and sarongs almost every day of the weekends he was with her on Naxos. They accentuated her figure, making her entirely feminine and sexy. He loved it when she walked, with the flared skirts always lapping against her ankles. She was beautiful, so beautiful. Didn't her husband ever see this side of her?

 She shattered a myth many men even in these days erroneously assumed - women, especially beautiful and smart women, always had a good sex life, always climaxed. That was not always true. He knew that a woman needed many impulses, and enjoyed a slow build up and tender foreplay to prepare her body. Last night he knew the moment Kathryn was ready for him because he guided her there lovingly. There were still men around too selfish and self-absorbed, so that their own needs and enjoyment were paramount in bed  and women were - he shook his head at the embarrassing designation - receptacles in which they expended and released their energy and spilled their semen, without a single thought to their partners' needs and enjoyment. .

 Kathryn Janeway didn't deserve that. Last night they were equals, sharing and giving equally.

 How could he not fall in love with her?

 "Ché...?"

 "I - I  was thinking how beautiful you are, Kathryn. You thought you were abnormal, but how can that be? Could you tell me, please, why you responded with such passion and spontaneity when -?"

 "It was because of you... Nothing else. There was no Seven of Nine to blight my enjoyment. My mind was clear... Besides, this island is very romantic and exotic and I was introduced to the most fantastic experience by a man who knows how to give pleasure."

 "Kathryn... Are you saying that Chakotay - "

 "I have no doubt he knows it too, Ché. But we both have demons to fight. I must be honest with you and say I came here to heal..."

 "And have you healed?"

 His chest constricted as pain lanced through him. He didn't want to lose her. He briefly closed his eyes, then looked at her again, expecting her to tell him was over. There was a gentle, gentle smile on her ravaged face. Of its own volition, his hand touched her cheek. Why were there a thousand drums beating in his heart?

 "I still have a month to find out, Ché..."

 He pulled her into his arms.

 "You mean everything to me, sweetheart," he murmured into her hair. Then he released her and placed his arm round her waist. "We have a ways to walk to the cottage, I need to get to the hotel to get some clothes and we both need a shower and breakfast."

 Kathryn laughed.

 "What are we doing today?"

 "Samothraki. Get a pair of hiking boots ready and suitable clothes. We're hiking to the highest point of the Aegean Sea... But we have to hurry. It's a two hour hike up the mountain."

 "Sounds like a good place to be."

 He pressed her closer, guiding her through the underbrush, carrying her in his arms to move across the water at the mouth of the cave where he'd found her. When he reached beach sand again, he put her down and held her hand as they continued on their way to the cottage. He looked at her from time to time, marvelling at her relaxed appearance now, and put the thought of her husband away in a deep dark corner, idly how he was ever going to let her go when the time came.

 ********* 

 He took her everywhere that weekend. Samothraki was a hiker's paradise. Mount Fengari rose out of the sea, a solid mass of granite, to an elevation of 1600m. For once they were blessed with sunshine, although it became colder the higher they walked. On the north slopes were the ruins of the Sanctuary of the Gods.

 Ché had been afraid that Kathryn would outrun him. She was very fit.

 "I'm a whole lot lighter than you, Ché," she had said, laughing.

 "I'm carrying a twenty litre backpack. That's got to count!"

 But there were parts where he had to hold her hand. The hike was steep and challenging. When they finally reached the top after two hours, he pulled her to him. He almost blurted "I love you", so beautiful she looked. She had worn her straw hat, and a good thing too, because the sun was fierce in the middle of the day.

 Earlier in the morning, they had showered after they returned from Devil's Cove. When he wanted to join her in the shower, she had laughingly told him to wait his turn. Then they had a light meal at the hotel, allowing him to collect his gear. Kathryn had prepared the backpack for their lunch which they would eat at the summit of Mount Fengari.

 At the top she had stood dead still for several minutes, spellbound by the view of the Aegean from the top. In the distance they could make out the shoreline of Lesbos, where they had been the previous week.

 "It is said that Poseidon himself stood here and watched the proceedings of the Trojan War," Ché said, knowing he sounded touristy. "A good vantage point. There's the mainland where Troy once stood..."

 "It's utterly beautiful," she said, turning to him.

 He saw the tears in her eyes. Kathryn had been deeply moved by the experience and he was so happy to see her happy.

 "Did you know how much I longed for home when we were trying to reach the Alpha Quadrant?" Kathryn placed her hand to her heart. She was overcome with emotion. "Every day... It was never out of my thoughts... Home. And all the years..."

 "Chakotay was there, by your side..."

 "Yes."

 He wanted to tell her that Chakotay was a very lucky man to have the most remarkable woman on Earth as his wife. Then Kathryn smiled beatifically at him.

 "But let us enjoy this time together, shall we?"

 "Yes, my love..."

 Her eyes grew wide at his endearment. Then, impulsively, she reached up and kissed him. It lasted several heady moments and they were both out of breath when it was over. When they returned to Naxos they were tired and hungry and had eaten a quick meal because it was already dark and he had to return to his hotel. By unspoken agreement, he always left to sleep at the hotel, except on Friday night when they were filled with the wonder of their emotions and lovemaking. Kathryn had dashed into the shower and this time, he ignored her objection when he stepped in, too.

 "Oh, no, you don't," she started. But he had already grabbed the slippery soap and began to soap her body. She looked ravishing, naked and steamy from the running water. His hands had been everywhere, working her into a frenzy.

 "Oh, yes!" he crowed as he lifted her on his shaft and pushed lazily into her. But she would have none of his slow movement and bit his lip in a punishing kiss to egg him on. For a time they grunted and gasped, their wet bodies heightening the ecstasy. She cried his name when she climaxed and moments later he whimpered her name against her open mouth. Afterwards they had dried themselves and when he left, Kathryn was already lying in her bed, her eyes drooping and reluctantly letting her grip on his hand loosen when he had kissed her silly before he had to leave.

 Now it was Sunday evening, time for him to leave for home in Louisiana. Kathryn seemed pensive. The whole day they had scoured the beaches of Limnos, returning with a collection of shells which she wanted to keep for Chakotay. It was still early evening and Kathryn had been hungry for lovemaking. When they entered her lounge, she had turned to him, her eyes heavy and fiery. She had stood on her toes to kiss him, making him breathless with need.

 "Hell, Kathryn..." was all he could say as she pulled his shirt from him and stripped him in double quick time. His hands hadn't been idle and he had pulled her dress up along her thighs and over her head. He looked heatedly at her in bra and panty before tearing them  off.

 "Yes!"

 He had pulled her down on the floor and sailed effortlessly into her waiting and dripping centre. Kathryn's hunger had been so acute that she had climaxed quickly. He had taken the time to enjoy pounding into her as hard as he could until he finally collapsed. They had showered together, but didn't make love again. Kathryn had been content just to stand close to him and let the water run over them.

 He loved her. How was he ever going to bear letting her go?

 Now she sat at the table opposite him on the patio. The water glistened in the moonlight.

 "What is it, Kathryn?" he asked. "Tell me, please..."

 Without looking at him, she reached across the table to cover his hand.

 "Next weekend when you come, can you stay with me the whole weekend? Sleep with me every night?"

 He saw how her mouth quivered. His eyes burned. He swallowed back the urge to cry. Lifting his hand to cover hers, he brought it to his mouth and kissed it.

 "Look at me, my love." Finally she faced him. He thought she looked embarrassed to be asking. But he wanted to die himself for the joy that she had. So he smiled gently. "I want to share your bed. You don't know how much I desire that. I want to wake up with you lying in my arms..."

 "Thank you, Ché. You have made me very happy."

 His heart wanted to burst with happiness.

 

*********

END CHAPTER 8

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more "mature" stuff, but an important turn here.

* * *

The following weekend, Ché lay spooned against Kathryn's back, his arm round her waist and his hand cupped comfortably around her breast. He gave it a gentle knead, smiling against her hair when she stirred. It was long after midnight. He had arrived later than usual and Kathryn had been pacing the floor in agitation.

"What took you so long?" she had asked as he swept her up in his arms and kissed her lingeringly. He had hungered for her a whole week, and seeing her standing in her lounge in a light blue dress, the image engraved itself in his mind. Somehow, light had filtered from behind her and the dress, of a thin fabric was not nearly enough to conceal the fact that she wore no bra. In the moments when he had put her down after the kiss, he was dead certain that she wore no panties either. That had incited him to insanity, but Kathryn stood away from him, her eyes glowing.

 "Had to tie up some loose ends, sweetheart," he had told her.

 Kathryn had given a cluck of sympathy that he had been so busy. Good thing she never pressed him for information about his family business. She had insisted that they have dinner first, much to his disappointment that he couldn't haul her immediately to her bed. So he suffered through dinner during which they caught up on the week's events. She looked completely at ease and so different from the initial images he had of her: lonely, alone, drawn, with shadows lurking in her eyes. Now she was vivacious, her energy infectious.

 After dinner, they had walked to the lounge and Kathryn had played some music - mostly Mozart - and read to him from her favourite poetry. His appetite for her was shelved temporarily because he could listen all evening to her voice. It was soft and mellow and she gave the words so much intonation and meaning just by the inflections, the dramatic pauses. Poetry sounded good when Kathryn read it.

 When she finished, she placed the book on the coffee table and sidled next to him, sighing into his arms. He had given a moan as he pressed his lips against her cheek. The moment was heady, and his hands started to roam, sliding her dress up from her ankles.

 "Just as I thought," he had murmured the second his fingers found her centre, unhindered by impediments such as panties.

 "I missed you, Ché...so much," she had murmured as he lifted her into his arms and carried her to bed.

 "I missed you too," he affirmed, pulling her dress from her and feasting his eyes on her body, splendidly tanned, glistening.

 "Touch me," she whispered as he joined her on the bed. Then had started a slow touching of her body in which he closed his eyes and simply let his hands roam, touching a nipple, squeezing a breast, splaying his hand over her stomach.

 "Oh that feels so good..." she murmured again, her head moving from side to side as she surrendered to the thrill of the waves of pleasure coursing through her. He took her hand and guided it to his arousal. She gave a small cry, then spread her thighs and guided him to her.

 Kathryn had been warm and moist, wanting him to hurry, but he had taken his time, teasing her into a frenzy. When he thought she couldn't take the unbearable pleasure anymore  - her eyes had been full of tears - he had entered her swiftly, filling her to the hilt. He braced himself over her, his hands at the sides of her head.

 "Open your eyes, darling," he ordered. Her eyes flew open. They were dark with emotion. His chest rubbed her nipples as he started thrusting slowly into her, all the time watching her eyes. He had cried out as he felt her climax, and when she gave a long, keening cry, during which her body became rigid and her nails dug into his back, he followed her to heaven.

 They had lain entwined, locked together for long minutes. He was still hard, but realised that Kathryn could use the break. They had all weekend. She had murmured tearfully against his mouth how much she enjoyed it. They settled in and he had left the covers halfway down. It was a warm evening. For long minutes, he had just watched Kathryn breathe as he steadied himself on his elbow. He traced little patterns on her skin, damp from their lovemaking. She looked innocent and vulnerable in sleep. Sighing, he settled behind her, a groan of bliss overrunning him.

 Tomorrow, they would just walk the beaches, take a picnic basket and sit down when they felt like eating. Kathryn hadn't wanted to go anywhere this time.

 "I want to spend it here, with you," she declared.

 Now he savoured the feel of her as she lay sleeping, her breathing unhurried. From time to time she stirred. His heart stopped in his throat her he heard her murmur softly, "love you..."

 He felt a prick of tears, then pressed convulsively into her. She stirred from his movement.

 "Shhh... Sleep now, my love..."

 ***************

 He was sitting on the patio. At 1100 the sun was high. They had slept in, although they hadn't been intimate again during the night, unlike last week they had woken up several times and made passionate love. Breakfast was light since Kathryn was still into her morning swims in the ocean.

 He was reading a book, squirming a little from the sticky heat, dying to get into the water. Kathryn seemed to be taking her time getting ready. Staying with her made it so much more convenient because all he needed to wear first thing in the morning was his swimming trunks. Hearing a sound behind him, he didn't look up as Kathryn padded past him, throwing the large beach towel into his face as she stepped off the porch.

 "Hey!" he shouted as he pulled it from his face. Then his eyes popped from their sockets and his jaw dropped as Kathryn walked completely naked down to the beach, her hips swaying seductively. Only when she was about thirty metres away from him, and ankle deep in the water, did she turn round to look at him. "Hell, Kathryn..." he whispered as he threw the book down. By the time he reached the water's edge, he was naked and aroused.

 Kathryn had a come-and-get-it look in her eyes and he ran in, splashing madly as he took giant steps to reach her. She swam effortlessly away from him and he followed her, his passion dimmed only slightly. For almost ten minutes they swam until he saw her heading towards the shore again. He stopped. The sun was almost overhead and Kathryn's body glistened as she stood up in the water. He could see the dark patch of curls which he knew, since Kathryn looked so inviting, were already quivering in anticipation.

 "Kathryn," he croaked as he stood in front of her. She looked breathtaking; her breasts were firm and pert, the nipples in their pink aureoles erect, her waist so narrow, the shape gently swelling out to her hips, her centre. She stood with her legs slightly apart, and when he looked at the dark tuft of curls, he saw how the water dripped from them. Her hair was sleek and wet, with water running off her face, her ears, little golden drops refusing to leave. Her lips were parted and God! she was steaming. "Kathryn," he groaned her name again, pressing his fevered lips against hers.

 Fire and water... Steam, rapture... He licked away the salt on her lips, his cock in a raging inferno against her stomach. She moaned into him. He couldn't breathe;  he was giddy with delight as his mouth trailed kisses over her lips, her face. He pulled her head back to arch her neck, finding infinite bliss in the hollow of her neck, where his tongue lapped her skin.

 He broke contact. Kathryn's eyes had grown liquid heavy, smouldering, her lips rosy and inviting.

 "Spread your legs, honey," he commanded. Her eyes darkened even more as he felt her positioning herself in the water. Only the mild waves disturbed the area around them. Her hands were on his shoulders to steady herself. "Oh, heaven..." he muttered as he kissed her again, then moved his lips down, licking her skin, clamping his mouth over a breast. He heard a cry escape her as he bit gently into the erect nub, her fingers digging into his shoulders. There were going to be more scratch marks later after she had already scored his back last night... Finding the other breast with hungry lips, he sucked on that nipple, too. Kathryn pressed into him, causing a little wave that heaved over his hips as he went lower. He reached her navel, sucking it into his mouth. Kathryn moaned with ecstasy. Her hands were losing their grip on him as he went lower.

 "Wider, Kathryn...:" he ordered again as he squeezed the backs of her thighs and attempted to prise her legs wider. He was on his knees, the water at his shoulders. Kathryn's vagina looked like a rose that had opened, its petals velvety and swollen, thick and moist, shimmering with silver droplets of water. Already, they seemed to fold away from her slit, exposing her core. Even the tiny clit, pink and distended, peeped from its lips. He was going to drown here, he thought with amazement. The soft curls, now a lighter shade than when he looked at her at night, quivered slightly in the waft of air as he moved his lips over her vulva.

 He closed his eyes. Gods, the folds begged him to swallow them. First the one, which he prised away from her vagina using his teeth, delighting in nipping on it to make Kathryn scream. She was trying to find some grip, with his head the only support. Her folds were soft and pliant in his mouth, between his teeth as he nipped, sucked, licked.         

 "Are - you - chewing - on - me , Ché?" he heard Kathryn ask, her voice coming in gasps between words. He was chewing gently, dipping here and there, greedy for his food source, keeping the clit for last. When he darted his tongue in and out in quick succession, she arched into him. He couldn't see her face, but her head must have been thrown back in mindless bliss. He pressed her closer to sink his tongue deeper in her sheath. His mind whirled as Kathryn spilled her juices liberally round his tongue and he could feel her little convulsions starting. "More...more!" she cried. He complied, gripping her buttocks tightly, forcing her even closer into him. She pushed in shameless invitation as he covered her clit, sucking it into his mouth, letting his tongue flick it. Kathryn began to shudder, then became rigid as she strained against him. "Oh, God, Ché...Ché!! she screamed as she rocked into her climax. He held her in his mouth, felt how infinitely wet and thick and soft her entire slit was, as her folds and clit throbbed in his mouth. Then Kathryn screamed again as she pitched backwards into the sea. She vanished for a second, then he fell in after her, pulling her up quickly.

 Kathryn looked drunk from her shattering climax; his mouth tasted of her, experienced the echoes of her throbbing centre. He couldn't smile at her bemused expression; instead, he gripped her waist and lifted her.

 "Help me," he croaked as her breasts came in line with his mouth again. Kathryn's hand was cool on his raging cock as she positioned him at her dripping entrance. In a swift thrust, he impaled her on him.

 "We're one now," she said, her eyes glowing with passion.

 "God, you're so hot!"  It was the last words he muttered, as his overheated and aching shaft stabbed into her. The movement was so frenzied that it took him several moments to realise that it was Kathryn who was humping against him. Their grunts filled the air, loud, uninhibited, rhythmic, sometimes long cries followed by short keening wails. With her hands on his shoulders, her legs hooked around his waist, heels digging hard into the back of his thighs, she managed to pull out to his tip, then rammed herself in, keeping up the frenzied pounding and unrestrained cries until he knew he was reaching his peak. Then everything exploded around him. He watched her face, saw victory written all over it. Her eyes...

 His legs wobbled as he crashed painfully into her, then pitched with her into the water again.

 When they could drag themselves to the beach later, they collapsed there at the water's edge and lay facing one another. There were tears in Kathryn's eyes.

 "Thank you, Ché..."

 "You are happy..." was all he could say as he stared at her, listening to the gentle, calm sea. Once, he lifted his head to look into the distance. He saw a sailboat on the horizon.

 ******* 

 They were sitting against a sandbank in the late afternoon, the sun moving gradually towards the horizon. This time, they had taken a flitter to the south-western shore, lazing in the red setting sun.

 Kathryn sat comfortably between Ché's spread legs. She wore only a light sarong and bikini top. Ché had raised an eyebrow when he noticed she wore nothing under the sarong, and asked archly whether she expected him to service her again after their romp in the sea that morning. She hadn't wanted to wear anything underneath. Clothes were fast becoming an encumbrance as she allowed Ché's hand to roam freely over her body.

 Ché had been quiet. She threw her head back, to wait for his kiss before asking, "What are you thinking?"

 "I think I'll never get enough of you, honey."

 "Good. We have a picnic basket, we have a pristine sandy beach and we are...hungry..."

 Now, Ché dropped hot, moist kisses on her neck, his arms around her. She had removed her bikini top as soon as they had found this spot, and the sun felt warm on her skin. She wanted Ché again, wanted him badly, shifting her hips forward so that she half lay across him. She whimpered as her centre began to warm, Ché's short, low gasping sounds an indication that he was ready, that he too, was heating up. Her hands were over his on her breasts, helping him to knead them.

 "Kathryn..." he groaned.

 "Yes?"

 "How wide can you spread your legs?"

 Her eyes closed at the mental image of sitting in front of him, with her legs as wide as ever she could spread them Giving a light laugh, she replied with, "I'd have to untie the sarong."

 "Why do you think I asked?"

 Smiling to herself, she opened the sarong, then lifted her legs over his. Ché used his knees to spread her legs wider apart.

 "That good enough for you?" she asked.

 "Wider."

 She gasped. Already the sun bathed her vulva, splayed brazenly open. A little cry of pain escaped as Ché's legs pressed her even further apart 'til she couldn't spread them anymore. The pain soon fled as her hands left his and she touched herself, investigating her moist slit.

 "Greedy little thing…that's mine…"

 She managed to lift her hips higher, ignoring the slight discomfort.

 "That okay?" she whispered huskily.

 "Close your eyes. Now, sweet Kathryn, we're facing the sea and a sea of faces is looking at you."

 Kathryn imagined an audience close to her, their mouths gaping and drooling as they all stared at her dripping centre, its fleshy folds hanging apart.

 "Oh, God..."

 "Yes. They have lust in their eyes, seeing you present your swollen vagina to them. They wish they could be you, lying here, or me, touching you..."

 "Oh, yes..."

 "Splayed so wide... You feel good. The audience is heaving with you, sitting so close. They want this as much as I want it, see? There, one of them wants to touch you…but you're mine… Tell them hands off…"

 Ché's left hand pushed away one fold, while the other pressed the small lip covering her clit, exposing the pink nub. Her heart hammered wildly, the ocean roaring in her head as she gave herself over to the sensation of Ché's hands on her. She saw the people, men and women, who looked at her vagina, watching how his fingers pried open her flesh as he displayed her to them.

 "Their mouths hang open and you can see them drool; they're scratching their crotches; they are as aroused as you are. Hands with eager fingers are trying to touch your sweet pussy... You're dripping hotly. Why can they see your juices? Why? Because not only did your mind conjure this picture, but because my fingers are massaging your lips, pinching your impudent clit, coaxing you to spill your juices. There...There, it's happening. Your pussy is weeping..." he whispered seductively in her ear.

 "Oh, God! This - is - too - much..."

 "Not enough. Buck into my hand, honey. Oh, you're so wet and slick. Picture the man in the front row, closest to you..."

 Ché teased her clit, turning her into a shameless hussy, wantonly demanding more and pushing towards those expert fingers.

 "Got it now?"

 She nodded, thrashing her head from side to side, occasionally stopping as Ché's lips burned on her closed eyelids. Where was she? In an underworld auditorium with a select audience? She pictured a man in the front row. His eyes looked glassy from lust, and he licked his lips in dire greed. His fingers moved as if he were pushing into her. Tanned face...tattoo...dimpled smile...

 "Now, he's just finished rubbing your clit, pinching it to feel its firmness, making you cry desperately for more. You push into his hand, you want more, you want him..."

 "Oh, yes..." she whispered. Her pussy was on fire, answering only to Ché's insistent voice and equally insistent fingers that never left any part of her vulva. He pulled on a tuft and she gave a cry of rapture.

 "Lift, will you? He wants you, like I want you. Now, be strong, Kathryn... Be strong...He wants his fingers deep in you. Can you lift more?"

 She tried her best, arching her whole lower body off the ground. Only then could Ché's fingers find her. She was dripping all over his fingers. The front row leaned forward, to smell her like dogs smelling the sex of another dog. They were incited, hands grasping towards her.

 By this time, she was swirling around in a vortex, Ché's touch and breath on her skin, his lips lapping on her neck, causing her to reel from the unimagined pleasure.

 "Ready?"

 She was too far gone to hear him; in the next moment he rammed his fingers into her... Two, three fingers... One hand under her buttock pressed her so high up that her legs began to flail. Who cared? His fingers filled her. She was sobbing, lustfully crying out for his hands to ram her hard, so hard that her body rocked, violently pushing back against him.

 "Ché!! she screamed as she convulsed, then exploded fiercely. Ché kept his fingers lodged as far into her as he could. Her body was gone, dissolved into a million particles that floated inexorably to earth. She broke into shuddering sobs again, while Ché slowly pushed in and out of her until her body finally connected to his. She felt like a loose, limp rag doll lying open in the sun, her lower body shuddering and the man in the front row watching how her vagina throbbed. Ché's mouth brushed against her cheek, her lips, her hair.

 "I love you, Kathryn," he whispered.

 "Oh, Ché, you don't know what you've done to me," she murmured as she finally managed to sit up properly again.

 "Were you embarrassed, honey?"

 "No...it was intensely, magnificently erotic."

 "You were quite wanton, lying so open in the sun, without caring who was watching."

 "The things you make me do," she replied as she ran to the water and washed herself down. She watched him, saw his slow smile spread. Her heart pounded. She pictured the man's face again, briefly imagined his hand caressing her vagina.

 Chakotay...

 **********

 It was Sunday. The sun was setting and they were standing in the small chapel at Lexos, on the north-eastern end of the island. Their day had been spent in Naxos Town, going to the hotel to have lunch there. They spent some time on the islet amongst the ruins of  the Temple of Apollo, and took  long walks along the northern beaches.

Now Ché watched Kathryn as she stood a metre away from him near the pulpit area. The first time, he had seen her just like she was standing now - still, introspective. He had tried to divine her thoughts, but the whole day she had been a little quiet, detached, cut off from the world. They had spent the night in each other's arms. In the middle of the night, they had woken up as if by arrangement, discovering they needed to make love intensely. He had lain inside her for almost an hour, moving his body lazily in concert with hers. She could keep him aroused for a long time, and he’d rested from time to time to give her respite, only to continue finding their connection. Kathryn had been soft and pliant and gifting him with her wonderful body. At last, he had sagged softly against her and they had drifted into sleep. When he woke, Kathryn was already down at the water's edge, getting ready for her morning swim.

 After that, he had trouble reaching her. He felt worried, because she looked so distant. She was deeply pensive and only responded when he called her name a second time.

 Now she looked as she had the first time he’d seen her; he so much wanted to pull her into his arms and beg her to tell him what was troubling her.

 "Kathryn..."

 When she turned, her eyes were sad and joyful at the same time. He thought of laughter and tears with this woman. Several times this weekend, he had declared his love for her. He’d loved her from the beginning, from the first time he laid eyes on her. The time they spent together were days spent in heaven. She thawed his lonely heart and made him whole again. Kathryn, too, changed from a lonely, sad and detached woman to someone vibrant, exotic as the islands, loving and giving.

 So why did he feel that the heavens were about to fall on him?

 "Kathryn?"

 "I love him, Ché. Perhaps now more than I ever have. He is the kindest, most gentle angry warrior, who has meant so much to me and has done so much. I can't think of a day that my love for him has not been a part of me. I sent him into the arms of another woman and it hurt me so much. You cannot imagine my pain. He made me angry, he made me laugh. He shared my joy and he was part of my sorrow. We married. We - we had our problems and they troubled us for three years..." There was a long pause. "I want to return to him and I want to make our marriage good. You understand that, don't you?"

 He could only nod, too mute to speak. He had always known it was going to happen. There had been no promise from her that her holiday would lead to something permanent. Kathryn had never reciprocated his avowals of love although she needed him, was open and spontaneous, and he revelled in that fact. She increased his happiness tenfold.  He knew with certainty that he wasn't just a casual fling for her, for Kathryn did nothing in half measures. When she came to him, she gave all of herself - her kindness, her humour, sharing her loneliness with him as she generously did with her body. In the deep nights, she sought him to lie very close to him. Sometimes, he imagined her whispering in his neck "I love you, Ché."  Now, Kathryn desired his understanding and she deserved that he give her that in full measure.

 He opened his arms and she came to him, resting her head against him. He had never had illusions, but he had hope. And because he didn't have illusions about a future with this woman, it made his hope something that was not dashed or destroyed, but, thank the gods, something honourable and precious.

 "My Kathryn," he started, as he held her in his embrace, "we were two lost souls who found refuge with one another. We each became the other's sanctuary, a place where we could drive away our loneliness and our pain in the comfort of our togetherness. We were always going to kiss, we were always going to make love, we were always going to spend entire nights together in our bed. You may ask why this happened. And I tell you it's because, my sweetest love, somewhere in the firmament, a lyre and a dolphin decreed that we become one. Not a man on Earth, not a star in the heavens, not a grain of sand on all the beaches of Naxos, could ever take away from us the time we've had. This is the memory we made here, but just like our old fashioned shooting stars, what we had was but a moment in time alone. It was our most precious golden moment..."

 "Ché..."

 "And, sweet Kathryn, I am a better man for having had this time with you. It was magical. The islands and the brilliant aquamarine sea that changed here from day to day to deep blue and ink, just as I saw the colour of your eyes change so wonderfully, all contributed to this time of enchantment. This was our interlude, Kathryn, my love. I feel no envy, no bitterness. You have never given me any reason to dream of years growing old with you, but I always knew that there was such a man, who would give you those years by your side forever. Chakotay is that man and, Kathryn, you told me that from the start..."

 Kathryn looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears - tears of joy and tears of  understanding. Gently, he placed his arm round her waist and walked out of the small chapel. Outside, to the left of him were the olive trees where he’d stood hidden the first time he had met her.

 He took her to her cottage, where he shared a light meal with her. Quietly he packed his luggage and prepared to leave. She stood just outside the front door. There no were last kisses, no last minute passionate intimacies.

 It was memorable, it was unsurpassable, it was being vulnerable again for the first time in years.

 It was their Aegean interlude.

 

**********

  


	10. Chapter 10

* * *

For Chakotay, life without Kathryn was becoming an unending river of loneliness. He missed her desperately; their weekly communication was becoming unbearable because every time it drained so much from him. He never slept properly these days. Kathryn had been sharp to notice that he was tired, and it was getting worse as the weeks went by.

 It was Wednesday and he couldn't wait to get home. He'd have a quick bite to eat, then wait around until it was 1900 before opening a communication link to her. Last week, when he saw her face on his monitor he wanted to kiss the screen right then. Kathryn looked...like she had never looked before. His heart had given a flip. There was a calm about her, something beautiful and intangible, as if she had just seen the mystery of life.

"You look very well, Kathryn," he had said.

"And you still look tired. I know, I know! You're going to tell me I should stay and continue my holiday."

 Her eyes were alive with a new sheen in them. It made him happy to see her like that. It made him happy knowing that their agreement and plan that she stay there seemed to be working. Kathryn's face had been animated.

 "I could always join you," he suggested.

 "Oh no! No..." she said quickly. "You said this time is mine, right? I've collected some shells for you."

"Great. I can use them in my sand paintings..."

 "Thanks. I thought you could. I've bought you a few gifts. Hey, I've been up Mount Fengari. It's - "

 "I know! The highest elevation point in the Aegean on the island of Samothraki. The great god of the sea Poseidon watched the battle of Troy from there."

 Kathryn's eyes glowed. He had done his homework, thinking she might have gone there, as well as to Lesbos. The islands all had their unique histories.

 "Kathryn, I - "

 "What is it, Chakotay?"

He wanted her to come home, he wanted her in his arms. He wanted to tell her he loved her. He didn't want to hear her say his words were "false testimony" like she had the week before she left. She still didn't believe him.

 "I love you..." he blurted.

 Kathryn's eyes had closed, remaining like that for a long time. He thought she might end communication.

 "Chakotay, please... I will come home, okay? I promised."

 She didn't believe him. Who could blame her? But she was Kathryn, his wife. He knew that her commitment to return home was also one in which she would remain married to him. That lifted his spirits. When she returned, he would do everything in his power to court her the way shed deserved in the first place, without the shadow of a Borg thrown over them. He had given a sigh and closed communication without saying goodbye.

 He missed her. He wanted her home with him and in his arms. He wanted to make love to her like he knew he could, making her feel good and special. It was pointless rehashing the old agonies into why they had become so cold and mechanical. He shook his head as he walked from the Academy to the transport to go home. Everything he tried, didn't work. Normal foreplay, a gentle slow build up of passion and heat  - nothing worked. Then his fingers would leave her centre, he'd sigh deeply and enfold himself in the warmth of Kathryn's sex. At other times she would writhe impatiently and tell him to "get on with it". Right at the beginning, Kathryn had simply opened her legs and told him "It's for you, Chakotay. Don't worry. You need this..." He had been alarmed at this kind of sacrificial generosity, but the alarm had been fleeting, supplanted quickly by his trauma over Seven's heartless and cruel defection.

 How long had he done that? How long had she allowed it? He didn't know anymore. Sometimes, he could feel her reach the edge only to stiffen and grow cold and by that time he was so far gone that it was impossible to withdraw.

 He wanted to give her pleasure. It rocked his pride that he couldn't. Any thought of counselling was out of the question. It was something they both thought they could handle, even though Kathryn had become so despondent that she wanted to leave him. Her face on his vid-screen was such a welcome sight, as if he were seeing life-giving water after being lost in the desert. She looked good, and had a healthy tan. He thought that she was softening her mood towards him. Last week, she had touched the screen. He had been feeling down, tired and afraid that she would return from her vacation and tell him there was no hope for them, that it was over. He had told her that he loved her. He had difficulty breathing, and couldn't sleep properly. She didn't believe he loved her and he couldn't blame her. He had given her pathetic little reason to believe it. The times that he said it had been the worst, Kathryn telling him he lied.

  _I want to make you happy, my Kathryn. You mean the world to me._

 He didn't know how he could tell her that her mother had stripped the skin off his face yesterday. She had been agitated, after arriving from her university where she taught Theoretical Mathematics. He didn't know how she sensed that he had a two hour break, which he was spending in his office reading up on his notes.

 His door had opened without warning; Gretchen had strode in and leaned on his desk, her fists planted like a wrestler preparing to throw him somewhere into oblivion.

 "What have you done to my daughter, Professor?"

 "My name is Chakotay."

 "Professor," she had insisted. "What is it this time?"

 "I don't think it's any of your business, Mrs Janeway."

 "When the happiness of my daughter is at stake, it is my business. She's not happy, Professor. I haven’t seen her laugh properly in three years."

 "As I said, Kathryn wouldn't appreciate anyone med - "

 Gretchen had snorted, fuming for a few seconds more, then stood upright.

 "One day you were on the point of marrying that Borg woman and the next, you marry my daughter. From that point on, I've never seen her eyes without shadows. And as the good Lord is my witness, I swear my daughter was in love with you. So why isn't she happy? I've been trying to see her, but you keep getting in my way. Why?"

 "You know she's on vacation and doesn't wish to be disturbed."

 Why hadn’t he just grabbed the older woman by her shoulders and urged her out of his office?

 She pounced on his words. "Vacation? Without her husband? Why aren't you by her side?"

 "It's her holiday. She wanted to be - "

 "Alone? That's it? Did you lie to her? Have you been seeing that Borg woman again? There are rumours you're seeing her while your wife is on vacation."

 He felt the blood draining from his face. What did they know? Say? It wasn't true.

 "That is not true!."

 "Did you wait for her to be gone ? Seems to me you were in a great hurry to get rid of Kathryn. Some say you've been bedding the Borg woman again."

 "Mrs Janeway, that is simply not true. It's beneath me to be disloyal to my wife. Kathryn wanted to go alone. What's wrong with that?"

 "Because I know that you have the same amount of accumulated leave due, maybe even more, Chakotay. Why didn't you go with her? What else are you doing with your time besides going to Indiana and running the dogs?"

 "I go to Mars. I have friends living on the moon. I visit old Doctor Zimmerman at Jupiter Station. I visit Grey Eagle in Mexico. I have regular communication with Kathryn. Every Wednesday, in fact. I'm due to speak with her tonight. It's the way we arranged it. It should be respected."

 Gretchen Janeway's stance softened a little. Even if he never loved Kathryn, if he remained married to her, there would be fidelity from him. He recoiled at the idea of being unfaithful. Sighing deeply, he looked at the belligerent woman. Kathryn looked like her and when they had returned home from the Delta Quadrant he had been impressed by this strong-willed woman. He loved Gretchen Janeway; he loved Admiral Ponsonby as his father-in-law. How could he tell Gretchen his marriage was failing? How could he tell her that it was destroying him, knowing his wife wasn't happy with him?

 "Yes, I have two months leave," he continued. "I could have been with Kathryn. Kathryn and I - " He paused, took in a deep breath. "You're right, Mrs Janeway. It is my fault. She's deeply unhappy. We should never have married - "

 "No, you should have, because your destiny is woven with hers and you are meant for each other. Did you know your entire crew rejoiced when you married my Kathryn? They had been as unhappy as my little girl, Professor, when you took on that Borg. You didn't make waves, they said. Yes, don't look so surprised. They weren't very flattering about your liaison with that woman.

  _And so they crucified Kathryn Janeway because they couldn't deal with their disappointment that he’d taken  up with Seven._

 "I know that. I chose Seven, yes. I was in love with her. When she left... Well, I had to come to terms with that, with getting over my feelings for her."

 "And that has sent Kathryn scurrying off to who knows where to get away from her trials and tribulations, and because she believes her _husband_ , whom she loves beyond her own life, is still in love with that woman. I've never known my daughter to quit anything, Chakotay, and you have turned her into a quivering mass of insecurity and made her lose her self-esteem and confidence. Don't look at me like that. I'm her mother. I have eyes to see."

 He knew he must have lost all colour at her damning accusation. He stood up and rounded the desk, facing her. He had to look down because she was as small as Kathryn.

 "Kathryn is in the Aegean. We discussed it, Mrs Janeway. Yes, there's something wrong with our marriage, something fundamental. Yes, she's unhappy. It hurts me that I can't make her happy. She believes she can't make me happy. It's not her fault. The breakdown is of a very personal nature. It's our last ditch effort to save our marriage, Mrs Janeway. If it doesn't work, God help me, I'll shoot myself."

 The older woman's eyes changed, became less fiery, more compassionate.

 "Adam and I have known for a long time how you and Kathryn have struggled. Whatever it is, you're both adults, you're not stupid. I can see you love Kathryn and she loves you deeply. I'm sorry I barged in on you like this. It's just that I heard these stories and I'm as afraid as my daughter that you might once again choose the wrong woman. I was seeing my dear friend Elizabeth Paris at Starfleet Medical and we got talking. You know how it is when old biddies get talking. Now, son, Kathryn will come home and you will be happy."

 "A moment ago you were going to fling me out the window, Gretchen."

 "What, and make my little girl lose the best thing that ever happened to her?"

 He had given a relieved smile, the tension broken between them. But it still rankled that their woes, however much they tried to mask them, were so visible to the outside world. Who better to see any change in the equilibrium of Kathryn Janeway than her own mother?

 Now, as he made his way home, he felt loath to be in the apartment. Kathryn's absence was so palpable, he even missed the way she folded her clothing so neatly. He was going to sit down alone to dinner again for the sixth week in a row. He couldn't work on his new sand painting and felt listless most of the time. He could smell her in the pillows, see her face opposite him at the breakfast table, the way she held her book when she read. Hell, he missed her most in their bed, feeling her in his arms, the way she snuggled against him. He missed the way she sometimes kissed him on his lips, or caressed his cheek when she thought he didn't know. They had never shared a passionate kiss and he had so badly wanted to kiss her to feel how her mouth opened under his and experience ecstasy.

 Inside the apartment it was warm. Kathryn had told him the sun shone every day on Naxos and that the temperatures were always averaged around 28°C. He took off his jacket. He wore a captain's rank pips but had declined taking command of Voyager, preferring to teach, especially when he thought that they needed time together after they married.

 He frowned when the front door chimed. He wasn't expecting anybody as he made his way to the small lobby.

 Opening the door, his eyes widened in surprise, followed by a heavy frown  when he saw the person standing there.

 "Hello, Chakotay."

 "Annika."

 ******************** 

 "What are you doing here?" he asked, gesturing that she come inside.

 "I will not keep you long," Annika Hansen said as she stood in the lounge. She was wearing a smart pants suit, the cat suit of the old days gone. Her face looked...strained.

 "Is there anything you wish to say, Annika?"

 "Where is Admiral Janeway?"

 He laughed, a low mirthless laugh. "You could scan the Federation database and know that she's on vacation."

 "That is good."

 He didn't want Seven here. He remembered Gretchen Janeway's words the previous day. People were talking. Who was spreading rumours?

 "Seven, you walked out on me three years ago. That was your choice, not mine."

 "I became Meghan's lover, and I believed myself in love with her."

 "Rumour has it that you left when she became demented, the result of a virus she contracted on Kantare IV. That doesn't say much for your loyalty to her."

 "I should not ask how you know, but I did leave her. yes."

 "Why, because she was imperfect? Good God, Annika! Her sister and mother are caring for her when she counted on your loyalty!"

 He shook his head in dismay. The stories had come back to him, of a sick and dying Meghan Delaney deserted by her Borg lover, a Meghan whom Harry Kim had liked, a gentle, smart woman who didn't deserve Annika's betrayal.

 "I stopped loving her. I realised that I was still in love with you. You had given me everything and more and I threw it in your face. For that I apologise."

 "Apologise? Annika, you destroyed my life, then you calmly walk in here three years later, expecting to pick up where we left off. Not to mention walking away from a sick woman who needed you!"

 Seven of Nine. Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix 01.

 Annika Hansen, carefully introduced and trained in human behaviour, who left out one very important factor of her betrayal. People change. He believed that he had changed for the better because with Kathryn he had what he'd never had with Annika - constancy and inner peace. Kathryn gave him that, despite the problems they had. It was why he couldn't bear losing her now.

 Seven of Nine had some effrontery, waltzing into his home and demanding him back when her lover was deemed by her to be flawed. He closed his eyes, the revelation blinding. He would never have been happy with Seven. Never. It was a realisation come late on the wings of Seven's appearance in his home. They’d had barely three months together.  What would he have been like three years later with Seven? He shook his head. He had robbed Kathryn of three years of her happiness because of this woman standing in front of him. Seven looked a little more thickset than he remembered her, the narrowness of her waist less pronounced, the extremely flat planes of her stomach now with the tell-tale bulge of eating excess. Her once firm bosom sagged and her hair that had fallen in flaxen tresses about her face, now appeared limp. She had taken great care to hide the bags under her eyes. Seven of Nine was only thirty three.

  _We all age..._

 "I know you are still in love with me, Chakotay, and you and Admiral Janeway will do well to dissolve your marriage and take me back. I was your first love."

 His stepped back as Seven advanced on him, the wall behind him halting his path. She placed her hands on his shoulders and pressed her lips to his. For a moment, Chakotay thought of their days on Voyager, when he would have thrown her to the floor with such a touch. The moment was fleeting as he realised nothing was happening; he felt nothing. Her lips were cold, the touch was without affection. He pressed her away from him and she stumbled back. There was confusion in her eyes.

 Chakotay shook his head. He felt like up-ending Seven of Nine, marching her to a bridge and pitching her over the railings. She had a colossal nerve, assuming he would take her back, yet now she looked uncertain, a far cry from her assertiveness. Did her hands shake? Was she waiting for him to tell him it was okay that she move into his bedroom and take off  her clothes? The same bedroom where she had infiltrated so many times? What had happened to the woman who had been so open with him, so willing to learn, so ready to love him with her whole heart? Seven had learned human behaviour alright. She had learned the vagaries of humans too, and like humans, knew where to hurt. He wanted to laugh at the sick irony.

 "And you think I'll take you to my bed and then we'll know beyond doubt that I should leave my wife of three years because our sex was good?"

 "Isn't that how it should be?"

 "Hell, no! I think I've entertained you long enough in my home. Get this - I loved you once, but you took that love and trampled heartlessly on it, destroying me in the process. I recovered, Seven, with the most noble person at my side, a woman who had given you so much. I do not love you anymore. I can look at you and think - Spirits, my mind is clear now. I can see you for what you are, for what you've done to me. What we had was good, Seven, but you didn't just destroy me. You destroyed what we had. It's gone, forever. I can look at you and say: Thank God you led me back to my real and true love."

 There was disbelief in Seven's eyes.

 "Chakotay? You will send me away?"

 He shook his head. Seven still had a lot to learn. She had taken the worst of human nature and turned it against him. He couldn't feel sorry for her. Like many humans, she’d made a major mistake -  she assumed his feelings for her remained unchanged. He knew through Marla Gilmore that Angelo Tassoni had made it his life's mission to help Meghan recover.

 Freedom rushed like a torrent through his body. His mind was clear. From the moment Seven of Nine entered, he saw her as nothing else but the woman who had once been Borg and whom Kathryn, of all dear sweet people, guided to her humanity. She was no longer the ghost of his dreams and dark nights. He smiled, a smile that turned to a bright laugh.

 "Yes, Annika. I am sending you away. I don't love you. You are no longer a part of me. My wife is on vacation only. I'm joining her tonight. Please..." He showed Seven the door. Her lips that had once curled in a taunt when she walked away with Meghan Delaney's arm round her waist,  now trembled as if she were going to burst into tears. It didn't touch him. He looked at her tantrum with detachment.

 "I thought you would take me back instantly. I was wrong," she said as she moved to the door.

 "Yes. The biggest mistake you made, Seven, was to assume that people can't change for the better. I find that ironic about your own life, which should have been your frame of reference. Didn't Kathryn Janeway once tell you how a single act of compassion can bring you in touch with your humanity? She took a lonely Borg drone into her heart and changed her life. That should have taught you something. Here's my advice to you - people change. I did. I fell in love with my wife all over again, deeper than ever before and it has made me a better man."

 He stood just outside the door and watched Seven walk towards the lifts. When she entered the lift, he gave a sigh of relief and went inside. As soon as Kathryn returned home, he'd suggest they visit Meghan.

 How right Kathryn was. Seven of Nine was the kind of warrior who would withhold the antidote to the poisoned tea.

 ******** 

 Chakotay was still trembling from the aftermath of Seven's visit, but was glad she was gone permanently from his life and his heart. He couldn't wipe away his short relationship with her for he had cared enough to want to make her his wife. Her betrayal had not been just in her nature of some human failings, but as a Borg. He had told Kathryn once how they didn't change their nature. Like scorpions. Seven considered his part in her life as irrelevant.

 Kathryn...

 He was as important to her as she was to him. Despite her deepest misery, she had been heartbreakingly honest about her feelings for him. She stayed with him, and now it was her intention to come home and be with him still. That, he thought, was the essential Janeway and he loved her now more than ever.

 He checked the chronometer. Still a few minutes. Kathryn was very punctual and he knew that he'd see her face at exactly 1900. He thought that he'd ask her tonight to come home and if she said it was okay, he'd be in his shuttle within fifteen minutes and on his way to Naxos. Now he missed her so fiercely. In retrospect, Seven's appearance provided the catharsis that was necessary for him to find closure. A boulder that had weighed him down for three years had rolled away and into the darkness where it could stay forever. Seven just intensified his desire to have Kathryn home with him now. Who knew, with three weeks still to go, he could join her on Naxos and they could stay the rest of the time in the Aegean?

 His heart hammered in his throat as he initiated a commlink to Kathryn's cottage on  Naxos. He waited the few seconds before the screen lit up.

  _Please, will you come home, Kathryn? You are the breath of my life. It's worth nothing without you..._

Fifteen minutes later, Chakotay tried the commlink again. He’d frowned the first time when Kathryn didn't respond. Now, he waited again anxiously. The minutes ticked by.

 He tried again an hour later. No response. Something was wrong. Kathryn would never miss a call from him. She was too punctual. In fact, every time he called on Naxos, she had been waiting for him.

He remembered how on Voyager they had always prepared for medical emergencies whenever an away team didn't report on time… Not letting his anxiety get the better of him, he put a comm link through to Starfleet Medical.

 He remembered Kathryn's words just before she left.

  _I will be the picture of health and sunshine and you will have no option but to send me back to Naxos_

 ********

 END CHAPTER TEN

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

* * *

Kathryn's mind was in turmoil, yet out of the quagmire of her thoughts was distilled one thing - she  wanted to be with Chakotay. Ché had gone the previous day and his departure left her in deep gloom the entire evening. His dark eyes no longer had that hidden sadness in them that she’d seen when she came out of the chapel at Lexos on the second Sunday. He had accepted her decision and was excessively generous in his gratitude that he could have had a life-altering interlude with her.

 She would stay the week and surprise Chakotay by telling him she was ready to come home. So why did she feel the infinite void in her heart now that Ché had left? Ché loved her and oh, how she wanted to tell him she loved him too! Already she missed him fiercely, missed having his teasing laughter ring out or his smile, or running her fingers through his dark hair.

 Images of them in bed came and went with regularity. Her first time with him when she had been so afraid she wouldn't be able to pleasure him, that she would never have the fireworks she knew her body was capable of. He had made her forget Seven of Nine, whose spectre no longer troubled her. How was it possible? Her time here on Naxos, the exotic location, unwinding naturally to the island's beauty, watching the red sunsets...dissolved her troubled dreams.

 And then Ché... Who showed her how a woman's body could be teased mercilessly towards the heights of ecstasy, who was bold, who was totally attentive to her needs and drew from her everything she had been capable of giving. With Chakotay... They had always been in their bedroom having sex, always with the lights off, always darkness. Was that how they had become? She shook her head, shook the tears that ran unchecked down her face as she walked towards Devil's Cove.

 "Oh, Chakotay..." she murmured to herself, "I made love with another man. We made love in broad daylight... At night we left the lights on because I wanted to see his face and he wanted to see my face. Yesterday... I thought I would die... I was so open...so exposed...it was the most wonderfully erotic thing, which I had never done before. I'm so sorry, so sorry, Chakotay... Another man took my body and made it his. I was free... No Seven of Nine to come between us... It was wonderful, liberating..."

 So she walked. It was almost midday and, for the first time since her arrival, there were dark clouds on the horizon, clouds that rode like chariots to the shores of the Aegean. Once she rubbed her arms, for a slight wind had sprung up. Her night had been spent dreaming about Ché, dreaming about Chakotay.

 "I love you, Ché..."

 She saw his face again in the temple of Lexos.

 "I love him, Ché. I want to make my marriage good, Ché..."

 His words, "I understand, Kathryn.."

 Wearing only her sandals, a light sarong and tank top, she trudged through the sand. Her chest felt tight from the pain of remembering Ché's hands on her body, Ché's mouth everywhere, on her lips, her breasts, covering her centre, Ché crying out her name in helpless abandon as he spilled his seed into her, Ché's endless murmur of endearments. Yesterday, lying so open, splayed across his own legs... She hadn't known that bliss could cause her to pass out for the sheer unbearableness of it.

 "My body wasn't mine then... It belonged to you, Ché."

 Then the image of Chakotay. Chakotay in his Starfleet uniform with four rank pips. Chakotay by her side when she had flu. Chakotay massaging her aching muscles while she pored over documents late into the night. Chakotay fixing dinner for them. Chakotay walking into her office and sitting down opposite her, sometimes too afraid to smile.

  _For fear I might reject him..._

Chakotay. Always there. Always doing things for her and forgetting anything for himself. Chakotay. All he ever wanted was to see her happy, to make her happy.

  _My constant. My everlasting star in the heavens. The lyre and the dolphin. We belong together._

Chakotay. Ché. Ché. Chakotay.

 Blinded by warring tears shed alternately for Chakotay and for Ché, Kathryn at last approached Devil's Cove, found the hidden path through the undergrowth and followed it until she reached the small cave. It was becoming overcast, but still warm enough that the cave would provide shelter.  Somewhat deeper in, but still high enough that she could stand up, she found the dry sandy patch where she and Ché always sat. She sat down, her back against the rock.

 She thought of Chakotay, of the way he’d looked last Wednesday. Did the bottom of his world fall out?

 "I love you, Kathryn," he had said to her that night, and his hand touched the screen. The words seemed so have tumbled out from his mouth. She had wanted to hear those words from him for so long, had heard them once or twice and accused him of not being true to himself, that he didn't mean them, that his words were lip service. Was the thought of Ché's arrival for the weekend, and her growing impatience that he join her and fill her again and lie next to her as if he'd never let her go, so overwhelming? For days, she had fantasised about Ché's body locked to hers, his hands on her, his hot kisses that made her world turn dizzily. She never gave Chakotay a chance, never  acknowledged his declaration.

 Chakotay had never looked more like he needed her with his very breath than he did last week, and she ... All she wanted was to taste Ché again, good, compassionate, lonely, handsome Ché, who could make her body sing to his touches.

 "Oh, Chakotay... I miss you. I even miss our dysfunctional sex life... But I want your mouth on _me_ , I want to be Kathryn, not an intrusive ghost..."

 She drew her knees up and rested her head on her hands. Last night, she had lain awake almost the entire night and those times she drifted into a restless slumber, she dreamed alternately of Chakotay and Ché. Now, it was already afternoon and she felt so tired...so tired.

  _I am coming home, Chakotay...coming home...home..._

She thought tiredly of lying down on the sandy bank, resting her head on her hands and closing her eyes. Not for long, just enough to drive away her sleepiness for an hour or two...

 Not too long... Chakotay, come to me in my dreams... Smile so I can see your beloved dimples... She started to weep, her tears soaking into the sand. Drifting off, she saw Chakotay who beckoned her to his arms, saw Ché who kissed her sun dried hair. Their images danced about her, like mirages in a desert. They shimmered in the distance, coming ever nearer. The images, caught in shiny giant bubbles that bobbed before her eyes, making her dizzy, suddenly merged. Their faces became one face. A smiling man with dark hair, black eyes, face tanned by the Aegean sun, tattoo and dimples...

 "Ché...?"

 *************** 

 Water spattered against her face and she choked as she swallowed some of it. Rocked instantly into wakefulness, Kathryn realised that it was dark, with no light coming in from the opening, and that water was sloshing against her. She was wet through and wondered how she had slept so deeply that she didn't feel anything. The water must have splashed against her several times. She stood up, realising with alarm that the cave was full of water, and her sandy patch halfway submerged.

 Also, the water didn't just seep into the cave, but surged in; there were waves and they were getting stronger, already lapping against her legs. Then she heard the sounds. Noise of the ocean. Noise of rain, a solid downpour that alarmed her. There had only been clouds on the horizon when she started out, thinking nothing would come of it. The weather had been so good since she’d begun her vacation. What she was hearing now was a storm, a wild ocean spewing waves against the rocks.

 "I must get out..." she said, moving as she voiced the words, stumbling as she stepped off the sand patch. She pitched headlong into the water, rose to her feet and felt herself being tossed like a piece of driftwood to the opposite rock.

 "No!" she cried as she was knocked against the cave wall. There was no time to think of how the weather had changed so dramatically. She was momentarily dazed, but managed to swim back to the sand patch, or what remained of it. Breathing a sigh of relief, she stood on the only spot where she could stand.

 _"How long did I sleep?"_ she wondered, and on the heels of that thought came another. The entire Devil's Cove must be flooded. The tide was in and the force of the crashing of waves she heard outside surely aggravated the situation. Normally, anyone could get out even when it was high tide.

 "How am I going to get out here?"

 It was folly to try to swim again to the other side. There was nowhere she could stand, except the spot she was already occupying. Trembling from the cold and wet, she contemplated making an attempt to swim for the mouth of the cave. If she could reach some of the undergrowth still visible above the water, she could pull herself up and work her way to higher ground.

 Taking a deep breath, she plucked up courage to enter the water. She was prepared. The first time she had been caught by surprise and swept to the other side. Now, she walked in and heaved her body against the current, walking slowly until the water reached just above her waist before she started swimming in strong strokes. The current was strong, her progress slow. She was out of breath, and her chest burned. By the time she reached the mouth of the cave, she was exhausted. There was no foothold and she cried out as the waves pushed her to the side again. She knocked her head against a jutting rock, but managed to stay conscious. Lunging against the force of the water, she swam again, this time giving a cry of relief when she felt the strong limb of a bush. 

 Then it happened. A big wave crashed over her and she lost her grip.

 "No!! she screamed as she was swept back into the cave. She was too tired to fight. Swallowing water, choking and gasping, the force of the waves carried her inward again, and finally she managed to stand on the small sand patch. Panting, dripping wet and crying tears of frustration she stood, bracing herself against the rock face. She closed her eyes, shivering uncontrollably.

  _I have to stay here... It's the only way. I have to wait for the storm to abate and the tide to go out..._

She sagged down, drawing her arms about her knees, listening to the wind, the rain, the crashing waves. The minutes ticked by. She knew it had to be a good many minutes. Her body grew stiff and she stood up, then crouched again, repeating the exercise to prevent the stiffness settling in. After a while, even those movements slowed down, and she slumped into her crouching position again. The water lapped against her feet, but she could at least stand there. It wasn't getting higher and that was a good sign.

 Twice more she tried to swim out, and twice she was swept back into the cave. This time she decided to remain on her patch of sand, slipping down and resting again. She coughed, wondering how much water she had swallowed in the process. After her second attempt, she had retched violently.

 She must have dozed off again, deciding that any thought of trying to  reach the mouth of the cave again was sheer folly. She could be washed out to sea... She could be knocked unconscious and drown.

 "Oh, Chakotay," she prayed, "please come..."

 Did she fall asleep again? How long she stayed in that spot, she didn't know. It must have been hours. She dozed from time to time, but remained alert in case she was swept off the sand bank. Those waking moments were spent listening to the storm, the rain, the crashing waves. Now the storm appeared to have abated and she didn't hear rain. She could discern light at the mouth of the cave and the patch she was crouching was now a normal size again except that it was wet. She was intensely cold, wearing only her tank top and bikini panty.

 Her body protested as she stood up and walked slowly to the cave opening. She breathed a sigh of relief when she realised the undergrowth was exposed again, but finding the hidden path took several agonising minutes. She had lost her sarong during her attempts to swim out. Now she found it, caught in one of the overhanging branches. Half an hour later, she walked on the beach, her legs and arms covered in scratches, and although it was more than two kilometres to the cottage, it was nothing compared to the harrowing night spent in the cave. She had a slight headache, probably from when she hit the rocks. It was morning, and by her calculation, she had spent more than twelve hours in the dark cave.

 She burst into tears the moment she saw the patio of the cottage. Damp, exhausted, dying for a soak in the tub, she tried running up the beach. She almost laughed out loud at how slowly she actually moved.

 *************

 A hot soak and breakfast later, she put on her nightgown and tumbled into bed, sighing as she pulled the covers over her. Chakotay's image came to her, his words, "be careful you don't drift to one of the other islands" echoed in her head. After that, sleep overtook her in giant whorls of lethargy, and she tumbled helplessly into oblivion.

 Kathryn woke with the awful sensation that she couldn't lift her head from the pillow, that she was breathing with difficulty, her limbs were stiff and aching and there was an alarming gurgling sound coming from her lungs. She was overheating, her head wanted to burst and she  was also soaked in perspiration. She turned her head to the chronometer. The reading was blurred and she gave up, falling back exhaustedly against the pillows.

 What day was it?

 She remembered getting up and walking to the cave to think. That was Monday... Ché had left Sunday. She spent one night in the cave and it was morning when she returned. The storm had died down as if it had never happened and the sea was again smooth. Now, by the light in the room, it was the same. Was it evening? Was it the next morning?

 Her body ached, her head felt swollen to twice its size and coughing was painful. The sheets were soaked from her perspiration. She needed to go the bathroom. With a supreme effort, she lifted herself off the bed and stumbled towards the bathroom. Did she swallow endless litres of water? Sea water? When she finished, she stood in front of the basin, hardly recognising the face in the mirror as she washed her hands. The water was cool and she splashed her face to cool the heat. Her head felt heavy, too heavy for her body, and every muscle ached and burned as if the fires of hell had chosen her for its furnace.

 Dragging her feet to the room took some time; when she eventually fell down on the bed, she was so  drained that she lay staring unseeingly at the ceiling. Did she pass out? Did she dream? She opened her eyes to find herself lying in the same position - diagonally, because her feet touched the pillows and her head lolled over the edge.

 What day was it?

  _I must get help..._

 The gurgling in her chest seemed to increase as her entire body was shot through with pain with every breath she took. How long did had she lain like this? She tried to lift her head, then rise from the bed to make her way to her vid-com. A movement, that of lifting one foot off the bed. She slid off, her head thudding against the floor. Everything went black as she sank away into oblivion. Sometime later, she came to. 

  _What is wrong with me?_

 Just blinking caused her to recede into dizziness.  She tried to cry out, but the gurgling prevented her from making any sound other than just taking in air. Rolling over on her stomach, she managed to crawl, then collapsed again. This time she lay there, sinking away, feeling her consciousness  betraying her again. In her semi-delirium, she heard Chakotay.

  _"The warrior promised to stay by her side forever..." he said._

_"Is there really a legend?"_

_"Here, touch my hand and feel my strength."_

_"Will you marry me, Kathryn?"_

  _"I have loved you for seven years. You love another. I have no pride. I'll take what you can give…"_

 Once, they were on a planet where they crashed.

  _"I'm here... Can't you feel my touch, hear my voice, feel my presence?"_

  _"I can't imagine a day without you, Chakotay."_

_"No, you belong to me, Kathryn. I breathed life into your body. I am Ché"_

_"Ché...Ché..."_

 So the images, swirling about in her unconscious state, merged, departed, merged again into a maelstrom of pain, memories, odd conversations...

  _"She deliberately withheld the poison. She wanted to kill him..."_

_"We're two lonely souls drifting in the constellations of Lyra and Delphus."_

 Far off, she heard a sound, like the clang of bells or the music of chimes, or a ring, a note, a beep. The sound came nearer until it traipsed into her consciousness, alerting her mind to its presence. Kathryn lifted her head, listening for the sound. Her vid-com...

 "Chakotay..." Her head exploded just trying to say his name.

 With renewed effort, she lifted herself and crawled out of the bedroom. The alcove seemed so far away... Why couldn't she move? The sound became louder, insistent, beckoning her. 

  _Oh, God...help me get there..._

The beep continued. Kathryn tried to rise to her feet. She wobbled dangerously as she took two steps, another two.

  _Please... keep beeping..._

 One more step.

 "Chakotay!" she cried as her legs caved in and she collapsed in a heap on the floor, in front of her vid-com desk. The beeping continued for another minute, but she couldn't hear it anymore. Somewhere she felt herself floating. To Mount Fengari on Samothraki, where Poseidon stood on the summit and watched the Trojan War. To Lesbos where Arion and Sappho were born. To the shore of Corinth where the dolphin carried Arion... She floated from there, on the breath of the summer winds of the Aegean... To Limnos where she collected shells.

  _"I'm collecting this for Chakotay. I'm sure he can use it for his sand paintings."_

_"Periander decreed the lyre and dolphin reside in the heavens. They became constellations..."_

_"This cave shall be our hideaway,  Ché."_

 She felt the presence of an Almighty in the small temple in Lexos. She stood there and Chakotay was by her side.

  _"I won't leave you, Kathryn."_

_"I don't want you to leave."_

_"But, I am Ché, who loves you with his whole heart, for life."_

_"Love me... Ché...Ché...my body yearns for your touch...love me..."_

 Then all the images left her, and only darkness remained. Kathryn lay sprawled on the cold floor of the alcove, burning with fever, her breathing so erratic as to be almost non-existent.

 She did not hear the vid-com beep again an hour later.

 

**************

 END CHAPTER 11


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Denouement! Who is Ché?

* * *

Chakotay landed the shuttle on a small rise about thirty meters away from the cottage. The moment the hatch opened, he was out, running down the slope. From the scans he’d run on the shuttle's computer, Kathryn was in the house. His heart hammered against his ribcage the moment he saw light streaming from the cottage.

 "Kathryn!" he called as he ran the short distance and up the ramp that led to the patio. The doors were wide open. "Kathryn!" he called again. Through the carpeted lounge he moved, then almost stumbled against her as he reached the alcove. Kathryn lay on her back, her arms outstretched, her head to one side. She was just barely breathing. He touched her face and pulled his hand back in alarm. She was aflame with a high fever.

 "Oh, Kathryn..."

 He had come prepared and he flicked open the medical tricorder, trying not to cry out as he recorded her temperature. Right at that moment Kathryn stirred, and her body convulsed for a few seconds before crumpling again.

 Chakotay lifted her in his arms and carried her to her bedroom. The door to that room was open and the light was on. He lay her down and rolled her in the bed cover before tapping his commbadge.

 "Chakotay to Doctor Paris."

 "You found her," Elizabeth Paris replied.

 "Doctor, she's hardly breathing. Her temperature is 39.9° C and she went into convulsions when I arrived here. There are signs that she has coughed blood and has vomited."

 "Professor, the twenty minute journey in the shuttle may be too late. Your wife has acute pneumonia. Your EMH is here and ready to prepare for transport. Doctor Paris out."

 Chakotay had just enough time to haul Kathryn against him, her head lolling as he cradled her in his arms. Then he very gently lay her down again and stood, waiting for the transport. Seconds later Kathryn dematerialised.   

 "Please let them be in time..." he murmured.

 He locked up the cottage, switching off all the lights as he went. He had left the shuttle hatch open and by the time it closed,  he had initiated the start-up sequence. Seconds later the shuttle lifted off. He entered co-ordinates and engaged autopilot. It would take him at least fifteen minutes to reach Starfleet Medical. Kathryn was now in capable hands, so he could breathe easier. But he couldn’t relax, instead he thought of the harrowing last hour after he had contacted the hospital.

 Elizabeth Paris, who was visiting her last patient before she left for the day, responded.

 "I suspect something has happened to Kathryn, Doctor Paris. I have tried three times, but she has not responded to my calls. I can tell you she is never late."

 "Be here in ten minutes, will you?" the doctor said. "I'll have information for you by then." Chakotay had wanted to curse because Doctor Paris sounded so calm.

 "Thank you, Doctor. I'll be there."

 When he arrived at the hospital, Elizabeth Paris was waiting for him.

 "You have to go now," she said with great urgency. "We're transporting you to your shuttle. Kathryn is somewhere on the island. There has been a storm in the last few days. She might have been caught in it. There might be injury of some kind. Here is a range of co-ordinates," she'd continued without preamble.

 Careful not to break Federation regulations for flying too fast at a 5km altitude, he  had piloted the shuttle, crazy with worry that something had happened to Kathryn. Even if she were injured Kathryn would have tried to contact him. The storm occurred on Monday. If she were in the storm on Monday...

 He'd closed his eyes, trying not to think of the worst that could happen. Naxos had a population of three thousand. Kathryn's cottage was on the south-western shore and those were the co-ordinates given to him. He had run a detailed scan and quickly determined the exact co-ordinates. All he had to do was link to Kathryn's tricorder, which she seemed to have left open and activated. Then he scanned for life signs around the house.

 One life sign.

 He shook his head. Kathryn looked near death. Her body was so weak, burning up with fever. He had seen how she must have struggled to cough. There were blood spatters on her pillows, the bed cover. There was pus from the coughing. Pneumonia. He thought how hard it must have been to breathe alone. How long had Kathryn been lying there? No more than a few hours. She must have heard her vid-com beep, for she was lying unconscious near it. He swore under his breath. Why didn't she tell him she wasn’t well ? She must have become sick days ago.

 He arrived at Starfleet Medical in record time.

 ****

 "Professor, you can't come in here," Voyager's EMH said as Chakotay barged through the doors of the theatre where he saw Doctor Paris working on Kathryn.

 "Try and stop me," he bit out. The doctor threw up his hands, thinking it better not to anger him more. Chakotay bent down and kissed Kathryn's  lips as she stirred restlessly.

 "Professor, we've done everything. She'll be fine. We've managed to bring down her fever. It had exceeded 40° C during transport."

 "Thank you, Doctor," he said, sitting down on the chair by the bed and taking Kathryn's hand in his.

 She stirred again, thrashing her head from side to side.

 "Ché..." Her voice was so low, he doubted that the other two heard.

 "Don't worry... I am here, Kathryn. I'll never leave you..."

 "Ché..." the name broke from her parched lips again.

 After that Kathryn drifted again into a restless slumber. She was at least breathing normally.

 "Chakotay," Elizabeth Paris said gently, "we're going to transfer Kathryn to a ward. Could you wait outside, please?"

 He didn't want to leave Kathryn's side, but he saw the kindness in the doctor's eyes. They had done everything possible. All Kathryn had to do was wake up. He rose stiffly from the chair and waited outside. Two nursing officers came and wheeled Kathryn away to a ward and he followed them, waiting until they were finished settling her in. He pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed, holding Kathryn's hand. Doctor Paris arrived a minute later and checked Kathryn over again.

 "She looks very ill, Doctor," he said softly, as he rubbed the back of Kathryn's hand.

 "I can only conclude that she was caught in the storm that ravaged the island."

 "But that was on Monday!"

 "Enough time and conditions to make her so sick. We've cleared her lungs. She won't get convulsions again. Her temperature is still high, but it's coming down gradually. She'll wake up, don't worry so..." Elizabeth smiled gently at him. "I'll be here in the morning. Doctor Robert will be attending her during the night."

 "I'll stay here," he told Elizabeth.

 "Professor, I didn't think we'd be able to get you away from Kathryn's side!"

 ***********

 He lifted her warm, listless hand and pressed his lips against the back of it. The other hand caressed her hair, damp and limp which hours ago, had clung to her skin when he found her. Now there was a little more colour in her cheeks and her bosom heaved rhythmically as she breathed. He could only imagine her pain of the last few days. When he had spoken with her last week she had looked radiant, a new light shining in her eyes, her gaze unwavering as she spoke with him.

 He had wondered idly if she felt ready to come home, whether the five weeks spent on Naxos had now served its purpose. He had never seen Kathryn like that before, except when they had been on Risa, and hope had still been part of her contract of love with him. It humbled him and thrilled him at the same time, that Kathryn had always, even before she left, indicated that she would come back to him. He wondered if the past week had been a watershed in which she had come to a decision.

 "Only you will know..." he whispered against her hand. It was as if Kathryn heard him, for her head turned to his voice. His heart fluttered erratically as it seemed to him she would open her eyes.

 "Ché..." she murmured again. Chakotay's eyes closed. He felt a prick of tears as he leaned forward and kissed her mouth.

 "I'm here, my love. I'm here...don't fret, please..."

 "Ché..."

 After giving a long sigh she became quiet again. He rested his head against her, thinking he would just close his eyes for a few minutes. Kathryn was more restful that she had been when he found her.

 Hours later he opened his eyes sluggishly. It was light. He looked at Kathryn and she was stirring again. He heard the door open.

 "Ah, I see our patient is about to open her eyes."

 The doctor's voice grated on him as he took Kathryn's hand again and held it tenderly. Her head moved, turning towards him. He ignored the doctor and had there been fifty people in the ward he would have ignored them too

 "Kathryn..." he whispered as her eyes began to open. He held his breath. Kathryn opened her eyes tiredly, but they fixed directly on him. Her lips were dry from her ordeal; her throat, working to project a sound, was an effort which tired her even more.

 "Ché...Ché..." 

 "Oh, Kathryn, my love... I've missed you so much, so much..."

 "Ché...?"

 "Yes, I am here, my beloved. You've been ill. You are safe now. I will never leave you..."

 Then he lifted her in his arms and held her for long moments. He thought he heard her sob. Her arm had come up and clutched him round his neck, but it fell back weakly again. He wouldn't let her go and kissed her forehead, her damp hair, her lips. Only then, did he lay her down tenderly, brushing her hair away from her face. Her eyes never left his. He saw how her bosom heaved as she sighed. She whispered "Ché" once more, then quietly closed her eyes and fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

 He brushed his lips tenderly over hers, his tears burning and dripping on her cheek. Standing up, his body creaking from the long hours of sitting in one position. The doctor nodded, then quickly busied himself monitoring Kathryn's condition while Chakotay stood at the window and waited for the EMH to finish.

 Chakotay looked out over the sprawling gardens with benches dotted here and there, by a small duck pond, a large tree, beautiful rose beddings. In the distance he could even discern Boothby with his ever-present wide-brimmed hat. Once, he had wanted to steal every rose from Boothby's garden and give them to Kathryn. He vowed that he would give her one every day as an affirmation of his love, his loyalty and his devotion.

 Kathryn. Love of his life. Kathryn who called him Ché. Kathryn who looked as if she had been touched by the heavens, by the magic of the blue Aegean when he spoke with her a week ago. Kathryn who looked vibrant, full of life. Kathryn, who loved him. He brushed furiously at a tear that threatened to roll down his cheek. He had missed her endlessly, had not slept a night through since she had gone. Kathryn who was willing to share his bed again even if...

 He gave a silent cry of rage at Seven of Nine, who still thought that he would cast in his lot with her. He turned to look at the woman on the bed. Kathryn deserved everything good, and she deserved a husband who could tell her that the past had happened, but that it was where it needed to be. He was free of the evil that had held him captive for so long, free to take Kathryn into his bed and worship her body so that she responded in the way he’d always know she could.

 The doctor was almost finished with his report. Chakotay turned to face the garden again. What if he hadn’t called last night? A sharp stab of pain made him clutch at his chest. The EMH came to stand next to him, touching his shoulder lightly.

 "Admiral Janeway will recover fully, Professor. You saved her life. Another half an hour and we might have lost her."  There was a pause. "You require rest."

 Chakotay nodded. He could do with a good sleep, preferably in his bed. He wondered why the doctor hovered by his side and wished he would go away. Then he sighed. He was tired, overwrought and overjoyed that he had Kathryn back with him, thanks to the two doctors who had saved her life.

 "Professor..."

 "What is it?" he asked softly, facing the EMH whose eyes looked worried, or curious.

 "I don't wish to sound too intrusive here. But while we were treating your wife, she called the name "Ché" in her delirium. And just now when she woke up, she called that name again..."

 There was a long pause. The EMH gave a little cough.

 "Who is Ché?" he asked.

 Chakotay looked at the doctor, feeling his face grow warm. He wondered when they were going to ask. His eyes filled with a sheen of tears but he graced the doctor with a beatific smile.

 "I am Ché."

 Then he gave Kathryn one last look and turned to the door, leaving a baffled EMH in his wake.

 *************** 

 After a much needed shower, Chakotay fixed something to eat, then sat in the lounge facing the wide window. All the time, he thought of Kathryn and his heart sang wildly.

 Naxos in the Aegean had been a long shot, a desperate attempt to save their marriage. It had taken so much out of him, and Kathryn had been wonderful. Wonderful! They had sat for two nights and planned the strategy.

 "I have a suggestion, Kathryn. A way in which you could make your vacation perhaps more meaningful...exciting..."

 "Fire away, Chakotay," Kathryn had replied, a lot more amenable towards him than she had been in a long time. She was prepared to tackle anything, if it would help. Anything but seeking outside counselling or dissolving their marriage. 

 He had dared to touch her cheek where she had been sitting on the couch, entering data on a PADD, her feet drawn up under her. She had looked very comfortable, which made voicing his suggestion easier.

 "Well, you know that a vacation can turn out to be pretty rewarding if a woman travelling alone meets a handsome stranger and..." He had given a cough when he saw her frown. "Forget it. It's not going to work."

 "And there is an immediate attraction?"

 "Like that," he added, feeling bolstered by her enthusiasm. "They uh... meet eventually, and she..."

 "It could work," Kathryn said, an unaccustomed shine in her eyes. She looked like he had seen her so many times on Voyager, when she was ready to tackle something unknown, something new.

 "That's okay with you?"

 "Great. And how will I meet this handsome stranger?" she asked. He thought she was teasing, but she had been serious.

 "That will be my concern. There must be as much of a surprise element as possible. So I won't tell you anything more."

 Kathryn had stared long at him. He could see the wheels turning in her head. The idea was great.

 He would court her and, hopefully, it would be very romantic. Who knew, in that setting, with the air of clandestineness about it, if it might just improve their relations? Kathryn had always thrived on the unknown, sometimes secretive things. If he were willing to embark on such an undertaking, she would play along.

 After the first night, she had been demanding, persuasive, cajoling him to impart more details, but nothing she tried would work .

 "Nothing is going to help, Kathryn," he said to her the night before she departed for Naxos. When they went to bed later, she had sighed and fallen asleep in his arms.

 The first weekend there, he had briefed a young man at the craft market to play along. And Stavros had been brilliant at matchmaking. That first weekend he spent watching Kathryn from a distance. She had been achingly familiar to him and just as painfully lonely and aloof. The day she stood at a stall fitting on a straw hat, he wanted to rush to her and kiss her, so beautiful she looked. She had not particularly been looking out for the 'handsome stranger' she was expecting and he had liked that. So he observed her, making sure she never saw him or became aware that someone was watching her.

 Then, the second weekend, he had followed her from a distance, made sure he remained inconspicuous until he had seen her walk to the small temple at Lexos. He had wanted to go inside and introduce himself to her, but decided against it.

 When she stood outside the chapel holding her sandals in one hand and looking his way, he thought he was going to die. But, he reminded himself that he had to take things slowly, that he was going to court her properly.

 "Ché Banderas..."

 He had chosen the name in memory of a deceased cousin, who lived on Dorvan V and died during the Cardassian massacre.

 After that... Chakotay shook his head and closed his eyes. He hadn't known that Kathryn's body could be the music to the lyre he played. Everything had worked out far better than he had expected. He had rushed every Friday to get to Naxos and stay at the hotel. Then, the day Kathryn asked him to stay with her the whole weekend... He knew then that they were on their way to healing.

 He worshipped her. The weekly communications became an exercise in agony for him, knowing that the past weekend they had made love with so much passion, tenderness, fierceness. That first time together... He would remember the way Kathryn responded to him to his dying day.

 Kathryn brought him the peace he had craved for so long.

 He couldn't sleep properly for thinking of her, staying awake to the early hours of the morning, wishing the week would end and the weekend was upon him. Back and forth to Naxos. No wonder Kathryn kept telling him how tired he looked.

 Chakotay sighed again contentedly. He needed to rest and when he lay down on their bed, he fell into a dreamless sleep.

 *********

 He woke feeling refreshed, but realised with a start that it was already late afternoon. What if Kathryn had woken up and he wasn't there by her side? He showered and dressed quickly. A thought struck him and he walked into their bedroom, taking Kathryn's old baby blue robe from the hook behind the door for her to wear at the hospital.

 "You're not going to take this old robe to Naxos," he remembered telling her when she packed her luggage.

 Kathryn had immediately replicated one, in pure white fleece, her eyes gleaming a little before she said archly, "For the stranger I'm going to meet..."

 Only when he made it to the transport and sat down in his seat did he look down and see he was wearing one navy and one black sock. Grinning to himself, he decided to ignore it and pretend he didn't know about it.

 Kathryn's ward suddenly felt light-years away, and he was a little out of breath by the time he reached her door and entered. He stopped dead in his tracks. She was standing by the window and as he entered, she turned her head. Her face looked soft, her eyes warm. Despite her illness, she must have taken time to wash her hair and it shone, falling into her neck, curling inwards. His hands went limp and the robe he carried fell to the floor. His heart was in his throat, throbbing furiously, heating up his face, making his hands clammy.

 Why was he feeling so damned nervous? Was it the memories of their heady days and nights on Naxos that made him suddenly embarrassed? He had had no constraints making love with her and she had never once complained. In fact... Kathryn had been a moon flower, a queen of the night, a tigress and temptress and mewling kitten and wanton hussy. Her blue-grey eyes had changed colour when she was deeply aroused, becoming dark, dark as the Aegean, changing from its brilliant blue to inky black. She had made him cry out her name in passion more times than he could remember. This woman who stood before him was looking soft and demure and overwhelmingly sexy... He closed his eyes, then opened them again.

 The same Kathryn stood there. How was she going to receive him?

 "Come here, Chakotay..." she beckoned him gently.

 He moved, step by slow step until he reached her. Kathryn took his hand in hers, and pulled him closer to stand in his embrace. His arms enfolded her. He gave a sob as he pressed her fiercely against him. "My love..." he heard her say, the words followed by tender endearments such as he’d only heard her shower on him in their bed at Naxos, in the sea, on the beaches where they made love, or simply sitting outside on the patio, or walking up the mountain at Samothraki to look at the mainland where Poseidon watched the Trojan War. Kathryn, who called him 'my love' when they stood in the ruins of the Temple of Apollo on Palatia. Kathryn's hands were in his hair, caressing, tenderly brushing away the dampness on his cheeks, dropping little butterfly kisses on his lips.

 And he?

 He could only hold on to her, his anchor, too afraid to let her go lest he plunge into the ink blue ocean like Icarus had once plunged into the Aegean. Quivering fingers combed through silky strands of hair, and all the time his heart was thundering against hers. And like a contented baby, Kathryn nestled against him. She felt so tiny, so incredibly fragile and strong at the same time. Finally, she released him. There were tears in her eyes.

 "Ché...Chakotay..." she started, her voice tremulous, "I dreamed of you. Every night and every day. I struggled to live through the week, waiting for the weekend when you would come and be with me..."

 "I am healed, my Kathryn," he said soberly.

 "So am I, Chakotay."

 "Seven of Nine - "

 "Is gone now. Forever."

 "She came to our home yesterday, just before I had to contact you..." He paused, noting how Kathryn's eyes kept shining instead of growing dark with pain every time he mentioned Seven's name. "She wanted me back, Kathryn. You know how she left Meghan alone on an alien planet, sick and unable to care for herself. What Seven did with her life after that I don't know and I don't particularly care. I sent her away."

 "You were always strong."

 He pulled her into his embrace, her warm, soft body that clutched so naturally at him. Tears dropped onto her hair. The words... How often in the last month hadn't he thought of regrets, of three years lost in which he and Kathryn had become strangers sharing a bed?

 The words poured from his heart in fevered entreaty.

 "Forgive me, Kathryn...for everything..."

 She responded by kissing him, and her touch was a benediction, a promise of a new life together. He knew that there would be times that he'd think again of the past three years with her and how she’d suffered, and like now, he knew that Kathryn would kiss away his fears.

 "There were times that I wanted to give up, Chakotay. That I wanted to walk away from this marriage that delivered so little, gave so little joy. And then I thought that my love for you had never changed in ten years. There was once a time that we were best friends, that you would have done anything to make my own life worthwhile. I am nothing without you. What I give you now is unconditional."

 "I always thought you were a remarkable woman. Yesterday... You know, I was busy courting my wife in the most romantic setting in the universe. I couldn't see past my Kathryn." He smiled tenderly, remembered how once, he couldn't see past Annika. "I was impatient to talk to you and I was being held up by Seven."

 Kathryn stared pensively out the window. Then she looked at him again and cupped his cheek.

 "It's over now..."

 "Oh, no, sweet Kathryn. We're only beginning. The real test must still come." Kathryn's eyes widened; she frowned. He enjoyed her momentary confusion, his insides swelling with heat as her eyes gleamed again. "But first..." He bent down to pick up the robe that slid from his fingers and helped her put it on. "We'll take a walk in the garden. You're looking so much better than you did last night when I thought I would have no more reason for living, if you weren't there to share the rest of my life with me."

 "I think I'll enjoy calling you Ché," Kathryn said, her mouth curving at the side. He became serious.

 He was quiet for a moment.

 "Chakotay?"

 "I love you, Kathryn. On Naxos...I know you thought of me as Ché, and..." He sighed deeply.

 "And I heard you, Chakotay," her voice deep with emotion. "I heard you last week when you said those words as Ché."

 There was a pause in which he heard the distant ocean of the Aegean accompanying her words.

 "And I hear you now, my love."

 *************

  

 END CHAPTER TWELVE.

FINALE TO FOLLOW

 

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finale.

* * *

Kathryn spent three days at the hospital. Three days in which she alternated between extreme impatience to come home and the cold reality that her body needed to heal after her ordeal. The EMH had been quite firm in insisting that she spent at least three days in hospital and Elizabeth Paris had heartily agreed.

 Her mother had come to visit, and Kathryn had been in tears at her mother's concern and joy at the same time.

 "We always knew there was something wrong, honey," Gretchen had said after wiping away a few tears. "And, we hoped that things would be better."

 "Thank you, Mom. We…had our problems."

 "And that Borg woman was at the heart of it."

 Kathryn had sighed at the unflattering way her mother had referred to Seven of Nine.

 "Her name is – "

 "I know. But honey, she gave you a lot of grief, even though she was never here in a physical sense. And you know how it is. The clever and the beautiful and the most disciplined among us – you especially – are mostly human and our reactions are human; our hearts and our subconscious betray us, no matter how strong we sometimes are. It's not a failing, Kathryn. You are human and you need to acknowledge that Kathryn Janeway can't always be strong."

 "I didn't think it would affect me that way, Mom. It ruined us, you know…"

 Gretchen had looked at her with compassion.

 "You rarely smiled. You and Chakotay looked so perfect together, with your long history of friendship, your life on board Voyager as colleagues… Life doesn't always give us things we want in the way we want them…"

 "I know," she had agreed. "It's over now, Mom. Chakotay…is everything."

 "Are you going to tell me the whole sordid story of how he vanished from here at weekends?"

 Kathryn had given a laugh. "Mom! It's personal."

 "Oh come on! I'm your mother. I gave that man an earful a few days ago and all for nothing. I should apologise…"

 "He visited me at weekends on Naxos."

 "Did he now… And there we all thought he was dashing off to you-know-where into the arms of you-know-who."

 "You-know-who made a last gasp attempt to get him back."

 "I hope he sent her packing."

 "He did. Then he contacted me afterwards. I – " Kathryn had paused.

 "You were too ill to respond to his call."

 "Yes. "

 "Your eyes are shining again, Kathryn."

 "We've resolved everything."

 "No doubt helped by Poseidon who watched over you."

 "Not a chance. It was Lyra and Delphus."

 "Constellations... Stars in collision. You choose your metaphors well."

 She had laughed again and hugged her mother.

 Gretchen had left, but not before extracting a promise that they'd visit her in her new home as soon as she was better.

 Chakotay had been wonderful. He had come in every day and stayed as long as he could until their former EMH threw him out. Somehow, he had missed Gretchen, and Kathryn wondered how they'd be sizing one another up after their confrontation. Chakotay did tell her that Gretchen had relented and let him off the hook.

 They talked, they kissed. Sometimes he just gazed at her as he held her hand in his; without him saying anything she knew he desired to be forgiven. Then she'd hold him to her bosom and stroke his hair, his cheeks, tracing the outline of his tattoo.

 He looked rested, finally, after all those weeks when she had been worried that he appeared over-tired. Naturally, his back and forth shuttling between Naxos and San Francisco had been responsible, and he had admitted to her that he’d slept badly.

 "Especially after every wonderful weekend with you."

 "And how do you think I got through the week?" she parried.

 He had been everything to her. On Naxos, in the exotic atmosphere of the Aegean, just imagining that he was a very attractive lover, a holiday romance, the whole illicit feel of being a married woman being courted so romantically by Chakotay, was just what they both needed. He courted her, brought her roses, walked with her in the craft market, with a watching Stavros beaming from ear to ear.

 Chakotay had surprised her, and she had been glad that she never insisted on hearing what he was planning for her Aegean vacation. Only that day, when Stavros told her to look, did her heart skip several beats when she realised the stranger he was pointing to was in fact Chakotay. Chakotay had admitted afterwards that he had briefed Stavros to play along. But she responded to the challenge with great excitement and did what Chakotay had hoped she'd do – play along as if he really were a stranger to whom she had become attracted. After  a while, she had grown comfortable, her behaviour, her responses had been as natural as though they had just met. It made her own intimate revelations easier too, so that he could hear her problems not as Chakotay, but as Ché.  They both had demons to wrestle and now, thank the spirits, it was over. She shook her head, still amazed that she had given herself to Chakotay with so much freedom, her body singing to his touches.

 "I am the lyre, Kathryn, and you, the music…"

 That first night they made love… How wonderful now that she could think about them making love and not having sex. She had been bitter before, reducing what they had to crude expressions of the act of intimacy. She had been apprehensive, afraid that the same thing would happen again, and Chakotay had taken her fear and gently drawn it out of her body. In the morning, she had been distressed, running to her favourite haunt in Devil's Cove. In the bright light of day, it had been difficult to reconcile the man she married and her emotionless sex with him with the extremely passionate lovemaking of the previous night with the same man.

 Over the past three years, they had both been unhappy. It could never be undone, and they would just invite more hurt if they dwelled on it. So they could only look forward to an exciting future together.

 "Hey…" 

 She looked up. Chakotay was standing in the door. She had been so deep in thought that she hadn't heard him.

 "Ready to go?" he asked as he reached her and drew her in his arms. She nuzzled her face in his neck, inhaling his cologne. A moan of contentment escaped her as she clung to him.

 "I've been waiting here all day," she said dreamily.

 "I told you I was going to Naxos to clean the house and pack your belongings. There were a few of my things too... It just took a little longer." He held her away from him and looked deeply into her eyes. "Ready?"

 "I can't wait to get home," she replied, smiling at him.

 ********

 It was late afternoon, the sun waning red over the Bay. The blinds of the lounge window were drawn so that natural light streamed into the room. Chakotay stood facing her, already breathing in a low, steady rhythm.

 "Kathryn…" he moaned as she opened the top of his shirt and proceeded to remove the garment. "We could go to the bedroom…"

 "Not yet," she whispered huskily. Her fingers hooked into the waist band of his trousers and slowly slid them down his legs; she followed the movement, her face coming in line with his crotch. Chakotay lifted first one foot, then the other as she removed his trousers and soon, the shorts followed.

 "You're killing me," he croaked as she blew hot air on his cock, which had bobbed out when she pulled his shorts down. Now, she caught him with one hand, the other holding his thigh to keep her balance. His tip was bluish-red, distended; a droplet of silvery pre-cum hovered, and she caught it with her tongue. He gasped at the touch and she continued teasing the tip, flicking her tongue over it, then sucking briefly before letting go.

 She guided his hand to her top. Seconds later, that garment lay on the floor. She rose slowly, leaving his cock and brushing her body against his. "Take off the rest," she hissed. His eyes were smouldering; his breathing coming in short gasps. When she stood naked, she took his hands and pulled him to the floor.

 "What – " he started as he followed her down.

 She stood, legs spread over him the moment he sat down flat. Then she slowly sank to the floor and knelt and to grasp his cock in both hands. He was beginning to drool and the knowledge sent her juices flowing. Keeping her eyes on him, watching for every nuance of expression, the way his eyes glowed like hot coals, the way his nostrils flared, his breathing rasping through half parted lips, she laved his cock against her already dripping centre. On and on until it incensed him, making his hips thrust forward in a desperate attempt to enter her. But she kept rubbing him against her. She felt soft and swollen, her folds parted and her clit exposed, as she let his tip make contact with it. By this time, she was breathing unevenly, her body aflame with desire.

 Then she suddenly stopped. Chakotay's eyes flew open, surprised that she’d halted the massaging. Before he could open his mouth, she impaled herself on him with such speed and force that he gasped out loud.

 As his arms enfolded her round her waist, hers on his shoulders, she saw the look of wonder in his eyes. He filled her so gloriously that she almost gave in to the impulse to push onto him. Her sheath closed like a clam on him; she held him there, locked into her her body so deeply that she thought she'd never let him.

 "Kathryn…?"

 "Take me to the window, Chakotay," she whispered against his mouth.

 Only then did he start moving, his hips grinding into her, the movement taking him slowly forward. As the perspiration formed little beads on his brow, he pounded into her, his face contorted at the way he exerted himself to keep up the rhythm of thrusting and pulling. Eyes wild, he grunted as he caught one nipple in his mouth, sucking strongly on her. Her body rocked to the waves of ecstasy as she met his thrusts.

 Their cries filled the room in concert with every shove forward.

 Kathryn threw her head back, losing herself in the total onslaught of her desire, the swirling torrent of passion that gripped her. In breathless, mindless joy she felt herself reaching the edge.

 She heard her name, torn painfully from his mouth, rending the air with its freedom as they both crashed over the edge.

 The lounge window was large, from one wall to the other and from the top to barely thirty centimetres from the floor. On most days the blinds were closed, opened only when they were home during the day to allow a full view of San Francisco Bay.

 Now, the cold glass shocked her back to the present moment and  Kathryn realised she was lying back with her neck against the glass. She stared at Chakotay, who looked behind him, then at her. He didn't speak, just sat with her still impaled on him, with the aftermath of their orgasms still creating delicious little shudders.

 "Hell, Kathryn…" Chakotay murmured.

 Their bodies glistened from the perspiration. She felt loath to release him. Throwing herself against him, she held him to her, remaining like that for endless minutes.

 Always, she had dreamed of this, of losing control with Chakotay, losing themselves in their passion, of reaching an edge and crashing over it with blinding force. A tear seeped from her closed eyelids.

 "I dreamed of this…" she murmured tearfully. "For a long time…"

 "Kathryn, darling," he whispered back, "I am at peace…"

 "You are?" she asked him, lifting her face to look at him. Of course, she knew already, from Naxos, but she wanted to hear him say it to her for the rest of their lives.

 "My mind is clear."

 "So is mine." She kissed him, a long, lingering kiss that kept him aroused.

 "Uh, Kathryn," he managed as he broke off the kiss. "I have rug burns…"

 "Forget it. I can feel you want me again. Take me back to where we started."

 "Yes, Ma'am!"

 **********

 Kathryn lay spooned against him in their bed. It was hot for August, so the window was open and light from the full moon streamed in and threw streaks on the floor, over the bed. His arm was around her waist and his hand covered her breast. She was not yet in deep sleep; from time to time she murmured, or wiggled herself against him as closely as she could. Then he'd hear a moan of pleasure escaping her.

 It was long after midnight. After their blistering lovemaking when they had come home in the late afternoon, they had showered together, then dressed up for a night at the opera in New York. It was a short trip in their shuttle, and Kathryn had been content to watch him pilot, occasionally touching his cheek, or some part of him. He'd cast her a quick glance and smile, his whole being flaming with heat at the sight of her – so beautiful, her new aloofness adding more to her allure than it had before, when she didn't want him touching her.

 The evening had been magical. Kathryn, restored to health, now glowed as she walked with her arm through his, smiling at those they recognised, or acquaintances as they greeted them.

 Chakotay didn't notice much of what was going on in the opera, and he was certain that for once, Kathryn was oblivious too, of the happenings on the stage, of duets and trios and quartets singing. Her hand squeezed his, or she'd glance at him and he'd feel her eyes on him. Once she sidled closer and her breath fanned his already heated cheeks, and he knew that they would make love again when they got home.

 So different, everything. A whole new dimension had been added to their lives because for a while, he had become Ché to her. There was no more Seven of Nine, no more agonies of wondering whether Kathryn would respond to him in bed. Much of their problems had been his fault, but thank the spirits, it was over.

 Now, as she lay spooned to him, he smelled her hair, her perfume that still lingered as he breathed. He thought how Kathryn's beautiful evening gown lay on the floor, her shoes somewhere in the lounge and her underwear…he didn't know where that was, only that he had ripped it off soon after the dress went flying.

 Was it an eternity ago that Kathryn had been absorbed in routine and ritual and painfully folding every garment neatly before getting into bed with him? It was so different now and so natural and spontaneous. He had told her that coming home and making love in their bedroom or wherever in the apartment would be the test, one that would finally drive away all the shadows that had been there before.

 In the morning, there would be breakfast. He closed his eyes and pressed against her. "I love you…" he murmured.

 "Sleep, Chakotay," came her muffled, sleepy whisper.

 ***

 It was already light when he opened his eyes and felt for Kathryn. Chakotay smiled. She had probably already showered and was sitting down to breakfast, reading the Federation Daily News from her PADD.

 Sighing, he lay back for a few minutes, listening to Kathryn moving about in the kitchen. She still had an ongoing battle with the replicator and was probably holding a conversation with it right now. He could picture her - wet hair brushed back, a scrubbed appearance, her new snow white terry robe that he insisted she replicate before she left on her vacation. There was a thump, and he almost burst out laughing. Kathryn was slapping the replicator in frustration. He hadn't heard that sound for a very long time. Now, it brought back familiarity.

 He got up, showered and returned to the room. The bottom drawer was his; he removed a package with a bright ribbon tied to it. His heart thundered as he walked to the kitchen and kissed Kathryn, a kiss that was meant for her cheek, but Kathryn turned and he caught her mouth. The kiss lingered.

 "Good morning, sweetheart," he said as he broke off the kiss and sat down opposite her. A quick scan of the table contents revealed burnt toast, coffee that was no longer hot, and several slices of sweet melons. There was no boiled egg with it ridiculous pixie cap.

 "Good morning," she returned his greeting, giving him a lop-sided grin as he looked at the table.

 "I had a fight with the replicator," she said.

 "I heard," he replied and put the package down next to her plate. He saw her frown.

 "What is this?" she asked as she picked it up.

 "Happy anniversary, Kathryn…"

 For a moment he thought Kathryn was going to burst into tears.

 "Have you forgotten it's our anniversary?"

 Why did he ask? The first two times she had shrugged it off. They hadn't had reason to celebrate.

 "I haven't thought of a gift for you," she said, her voice sounding suddenly forlorn.

 "Your happiness is my gift," he said. "I want to see you happy, always. Now, are you going to open your gift?"

 Carefully Kathryn untied the ribbon and removed the wrapping. He watched her frown as she held the PADD. She glanced up at him, then flicked it on and began to read.

 "Contract of deed of sale between the Aegean Island Authority and Captain Chakotay for the property of Arion's Dolphin, a beach house on the island of Naxos…" A tear rolled down Kathryn's cheek. She continued reading, her voice quivering. "and signature of Deed of Transfer to Kathryn Janeway…"

 Kathryn looked at him, her eyes full of tears. The PADD dropped from her hand and landed on the table. In a quick move, he got up and stood next to her, pulling her to her feet. She threw herself against him.

 When she had calmed down, he held her away.

 "You are married to a very poor man, Kathryn," he said in an attempt to lighten her mood. She laughed through her tears.

 "I am a very happy woman married to a poor man. Don't forget that."

 "Never, my love."

 When she reached up to kiss him, he thought wonderingly how they could now have their Aegean interlude as often as they desired.

  

*********

 

THE END

 


End file.
